Ah, the weekend. What used to be the most anticipated days of the week are now the longest two days of my life. There is only so much TV one can watch - and this is coming from a self proclaimed TV junkie, only so much I want to read, and only so much sewing I can do in my basement sweat shop. That leaves shopping, eating, sleeping, and excercise as viable options of entertainment. Given my shopping experience last weekend (see "i like candy" post), I'm sure it's no suprise to those that know me that this weekend I chose eating and sleeping.
I chose LOTS of sleeping and even more eating. Thus far in the pregnancy I have been able to control myself for the most part in regards to the food consumption. However, after my Dr. appt on Friday I needed to stop at Target to buy the biggest plastic storage bin they sell - this is to put away all of my pre pregnancy clothes that are now taunting me in my closet and causing major meltdowns almost every AM while I try to find something to wear. Instead of going straight to the storage section, I take a detour through the food aisles, nothing is especially appealing until I get to those final two aisles - the "all things chocolate" aisle and the pure sugar candy aisle. Needless to say, I check out and pay $35 - my storage bin was $14, I'll let you do the math on how much I spent on candy.
The highlight of this weekend was shoving the contents of my entire closet into the plastic bin, it wasn't just depressing for the clothes that don't currently fit, it was a whole new level of depressing to find hidden clothes that didn't fit me before I got with child. Just when I think I've exhausted all my energy at the pity party, I find my stash of "big clothes" that I kept after losing some weight a few years ago. Thinking I"ll make myself feel better by knowing that at least I still fit into these clothes - I take off my sweatpants and pull on a pair of size 4 (like I"d really tell you the real size) pants that 6 months ago would have fallen to my ankles - they won't button. Back to the couch, more candy.
Now, I know I'm supposed to gain weight with pregnancy, I'm not an idiot. But as someone that has always struggled with body image issues, not just from weight, but from height - adding extra surface area to this already quite big canvas is a bit upsetting, despite any logical reasoning. I spent my weekend working my way through my candy purchases - for those of you concerned about the health risks in doing this - don't worry I drank plenty of water. On Sunday evening, as I'm talking to my husband in the kitchen, I notice something stuck all over my pants, on the front, sides, ass...it was pop rocks. I had pop rocks stuck to my butt.
In an attempt to avoid becoming the poster girl for gestational diabetes, I guess I should find a new craving. So long candy.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
White Bread
I'm so mad at my husband that I haven't spoken to him in days - which for him means i'm not screaming at him anymore, so i'm not sure who is showing who here. I think our poor dogs can sense my unbridled emotions, which have ranged in the past 24 hours from pure joy to manic depression to ravenous hatred and back to a distilled joy. All of these things bubble below the surface as I sit watching Project Runway last night. Some of this is my husbands fault, but I think it's also due to the surge of hormones that tend to make most girls weepy and needy but for some reason turn me into a superhero whose powers are spite, revenge, cold hearted comments and icy glares. Those of you who knew me in the late 90's on the birth control shot, and subsequently begged me to get off of it, I am 100 times worse during this pregnancy.
I was on such an emotional rollercoaster yesterday, that I didn't even eat dinner. Around the second commercial break of Project Runway I realize I'm starving, but have no desire to make anything. A loaf of white bread - gasp! yes, white bread - stares at me from the stovetop. I bought it earlier this week at the grocery store. We haven't had white bread in our house in years, opting usually for the wheat varieties because people tell us that 's what we should eat and who am I to make my own decisions on these things. I ate a piece yesterday and it was squishy and yummy, I questioned why I ever switched to wheat - it's not like I ever ate 10 sandwhiches a day and the bread conversion has somehow been a major life saver. Generally, I buy bread a few times a year when the mood hits me for a sandwhich, and the loaf usually goes bad before I even eat half of it - so I think on this issue I will take a stand and tell the health gurus to shove it.
I get the peanut butter out of the pantry, and the strawberry perserves out of the fridge - both also recently purchased at the grocery store along with the white bread when a good old fashioned PB & J craving hit me. Despite my sour mood, and the fact that the dogs are scared to hell of me right now, we did have fun for a fleeting moment dancing around the kitchen while I made my sandwhich singing "It's peanut butter jelly time, peanut butter jelly time." My pups, they know just how to cheer me up.
I was on such an emotional rollercoaster yesterday, that I didn't even eat dinner. Around the second commercial break of Project Runway I realize I'm starving, but have no desire to make anything. A loaf of white bread - gasp! yes, white bread - stares at me from the stovetop. I bought it earlier this week at the grocery store. We haven't had white bread in our house in years, opting usually for the wheat varieties because people tell us that 's what we should eat and who am I to make my own decisions on these things. I ate a piece yesterday and it was squishy and yummy, I questioned why I ever switched to wheat - it's not like I ever ate 10 sandwhiches a day and the bread conversion has somehow been a major life saver. Generally, I buy bread a few times a year when the mood hits me for a sandwhich, and the loaf usually goes bad before I even eat half of it - so I think on this issue I will take a stand and tell the health gurus to shove it.
I get the peanut butter out of the pantry, and the strawberry perserves out of the fridge - both also recently purchased at the grocery store along with the white bread when a good old fashioned PB & J craving hit me. Despite my sour mood, and the fact that the dogs are scared to hell of me right now, we did have fun for a fleeting moment dancing around the kitchen while I made my sandwhich singing "It's peanut butter jelly time, peanut butter jelly time." My pups, they know just how to cheer me up.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
I like candy
A Sunday morning 6 months ago:
I wake up at 1PM, drink some water followed by a fast food breakfast sandwhich chased with a mimosa. Read the Sunday paper on the front porch while sipping a bloody mary and smoking cigarettes. Have an early evening BBQ with friends, drink some beers.
My Sunday morning at 17 weeks pregnant:
Wake up at 10AM, eat a peach, drink some cranberry juice. Sit on the couch and watch a little Ice Truckers followed by some "What Would Brian Boitano Make?" My sense of smell is so strong now that I can smell my dogs ass from across the room and it makes me sick to my stomach. I eventually decide I should probably eat and get an instant hankering for a Cinnabon and a Mochalotta Chill. I ask Chris to research if I can in fact even drink a Mochalotta Chill - his research is inconclusive, I decide to risk it and head for the mall. I call Court on the drive and begin to tell her my pregnancy woes and interrupt her lunch with stories of watermelon vjjs and my fears of boob feeding. I express to her that getting a cinnabon will be the highlight of my weekend.
I arrive at the mall, park at the entrance nearest to Cinnabon, get out my wallet and march with haste directly to the food court. I stand in front of Cinnabon confused as to why the lights are off , I stare blankly at the storefront for a good three minutes and I begin to get teary eyed until I realize that they must have moved locations - I immediately dash to a mall directory. A mall employee at the directory informs me that Cinnabon is closed indefinitely - I think he can sense that I'm about to cry because he quickly tells me that Auntie Anns makes a cinnamon pretzel that could be mistaken for a cinnamon roll. so I go get a stupid pretzel with cream cheese dipping sauce - it was bad but I ate it anyway because at this point I am very hungry, not the pre-pregnancy tummy growling hungry, but the kind of hungry where it feels like the baby is eating my innards. I eat my pretzel at a bench in the mall, spilling cinnamon and sugar all over me, it's in my hair, shirt, jeans - I just don't care. I disgust the people sitting across from me, they get up and leave. I stand up and shimmy and shake all the crumbs off and decide to walk around for a while...
I am grossly unsatisfied by the pretzel breakfast and longing for a Mochalotta Chill. I wander the mall aimlessly, with no desire to try on clothes or even look in any of the stores - I keep hoping I will find a secret Cinnabon location. I give nasty glares to the cute 19 year old girls in their short shorts with beautiful summer tans. I can tell they're whispering about the sugar that is still all over me. My sweet tooth still raging, I stop in the candy by the pound store and buy $7 worth of jelly bellys. I can't even remember the last time I ate pure candy, and it's pretty damn good. I pop jelly bean after jelly bean for a good half hour stroll around the mall. As I'm exiting, I see Hagan Daaz has a "Coffee Baristo" frozen beverage - I decide I can pretend it is a Mochalotta Chill and gladly pay the $6.
While waiting for them to make this drink that costs more than a $5 bill, I begin imagining how delicious it must be because it's so expensive. I suddenly start noticing how long the line is behind me. There is a woman with a little girl, she is so annoying...oh my god...that's going to be me soon. I'm going to have a stroller and a demanding little person and left over tummy fat and a soccer mom haircut. It's so overwhelming - I start feeling light headed...why is my drink taking so long - I"m now having to hold myself up on the counter and tell the register guy that I need a water stat. At this point I'm sweating and dizzy; there are at least 10 people staring at me like I am ODing on drugs. I don't really look pregnant right now, so nobody cares that I'm about to pass out, they probably think I deserve it because of the powder still all over my face (pretzel residue). I literally stumble to a chair 15 feet away, and sit down dizzy and groggy from candy, and it takes me a good 10 minutes to recover. I walk with my head down to the car and whimper the whole way home about how lame I am these days. I the immediately yell at my husband for whatever it is he is doing, because damn it, THIS IS SO UNFAIR.
Don't get me wrong, I am excited we are starting a new adventure in our lives, and I am thrilled we are having a baby - but I am not in love with being pregnant. People keep telling me to cherish and enjoy this time; some women going so far as to tell me it's their most fond memorable moments. Seriously?? Because I have been so clean for the past 4.5 months that on Sunday I GOT HIGH FROM CANDY.
I wake up at 1PM, drink some water followed by a fast food breakfast sandwhich chased with a mimosa. Read the Sunday paper on the front porch while sipping a bloody mary and smoking cigarettes. Have an early evening BBQ with friends, drink some beers.
My Sunday morning at 17 weeks pregnant:
Wake up at 10AM, eat a peach, drink some cranberry juice. Sit on the couch and watch a little Ice Truckers followed by some "What Would Brian Boitano Make?" My sense of smell is so strong now that I can smell my dogs ass from across the room and it makes me sick to my stomach. I eventually decide I should probably eat and get an instant hankering for a Cinnabon and a Mochalotta Chill. I ask Chris to research if I can in fact even drink a Mochalotta Chill - his research is inconclusive, I decide to risk it and head for the mall. I call Court on the drive and begin to tell her my pregnancy woes and interrupt her lunch with stories of watermelon vjjs and my fears of boob feeding. I express to her that getting a cinnabon will be the highlight of my weekend.
I arrive at the mall, park at the entrance nearest to Cinnabon, get out my wallet and march with haste directly to the food court. I stand in front of Cinnabon confused as to why the lights are off , I stare blankly at the storefront for a good three minutes and I begin to get teary eyed until I realize that they must have moved locations - I immediately dash to a mall directory. A mall employee at the directory informs me that Cinnabon is closed indefinitely - I think he can sense that I'm about to cry because he quickly tells me that Auntie Anns makes a cinnamon pretzel that could be mistaken for a cinnamon roll. so I go get a stupid pretzel with cream cheese dipping sauce - it was bad but I ate it anyway because at this point I am very hungry, not the pre-pregnancy tummy growling hungry, but the kind of hungry where it feels like the baby is eating my innards. I eat my pretzel at a bench in the mall, spilling cinnamon and sugar all over me, it's in my hair, shirt, jeans - I just don't care. I disgust the people sitting across from me, they get up and leave. I stand up and shimmy and shake all the crumbs off and decide to walk around for a while...
I am grossly unsatisfied by the pretzel breakfast and longing for a Mochalotta Chill. I wander the mall aimlessly, with no desire to try on clothes or even look in any of the stores - I keep hoping I will find a secret Cinnabon location. I give nasty glares to the cute 19 year old girls in their short shorts with beautiful summer tans. I can tell they're whispering about the sugar that is still all over me. My sweet tooth still raging, I stop in the candy by the pound store and buy $7 worth of jelly bellys. I can't even remember the last time I ate pure candy, and it's pretty damn good. I pop jelly bean after jelly bean for a good half hour stroll around the mall. As I'm exiting, I see Hagan Daaz has a "Coffee Baristo" frozen beverage - I decide I can pretend it is a Mochalotta Chill and gladly pay the $6.
While waiting for them to make this drink that costs more than a $5 bill, I begin imagining how delicious it must be because it's so expensive. I suddenly start noticing how long the line is behind me. There is a woman with a little girl, she is so annoying...oh my god...that's going to be me soon. I'm going to have a stroller and a demanding little person and left over tummy fat and a soccer mom haircut. It's so overwhelming - I start feeling light headed...why is my drink taking so long - I"m now having to hold myself up on the counter and tell the register guy that I need a water stat. At this point I'm sweating and dizzy; there are at least 10 people staring at me like I am ODing on drugs. I don't really look pregnant right now, so nobody cares that I'm about to pass out, they probably think I deserve it because of the powder still all over my face (pretzel residue). I literally stumble to a chair 15 feet away, and sit down dizzy and groggy from candy, and it takes me a good 10 minutes to recover. I walk with my head down to the car and whimper the whole way home about how lame I am these days. I the immediately yell at my husband for whatever it is he is doing, because damn it, THIS IS SO UNFAIR.
Don't get me wrong, I am excited we are starting a new adventure in our lives, and I am thrilled we are having a baby - but I am not in love with being pregnant. People keep telling me to cherish and enjoy this time; some women going so far as to tell me it's their most fond memorable moments. Seriously?? Because I have been so clean for the past 4.5 months that on Sunday I GOT HIGH FROM CANDY.
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