After 20 It’s No Longer a Snack

I find it fascinating that what I eat is my ongoing pregnancy fixation. Never before have I been so body conscious, so what-goes-into-my-mouth aware, so damn – uh, fat-aware. I haven’t eaten red meat in weeks, or pork. And I think eggs are sliding off the list. I still love fruit, and look forward to buying more $7 off-season pints of strawberries, since my current fave salad mix is berries, pineapple chunks, Empire apples, white nectarines, clementines, and guava juice. If I could keep a banana alive more than 12 seconds I’d have bananas in there too. Sometimes when I’m feeling a little crazy I throw this all in a blender with a few scoops of vanilla yogurt and some ice cubes. SO GOOD.

I’m also trying to eat things like crackers and pretzels in the late afternoons to help with the barfiness, but I realized today as I was mowing through my pretzel canister that I’ve worked so hard to train myself not to snack, that I eat like it’s my last meal. So now I have to count out how many and stick to that. Because I’m a four year old.

I had a stirfry for lunch that was pretty tasty, although I mostly picked out the chicken. I think I’ll try to do better with making veggie-and-rice things. Every time I try to do something other than bland-and-paralyzingly-boring I get barfy and don’t eat anything at all, so what the heck is the point? I was sad the other night because we got my favorite Lemon Pepper Chicken Wings, and I ate two and just couldn’t do it. Fries and carrot sticks, that’s a balanced meal. I can't cook any more, but hate the idea of fast food. I figure if I have at least one 'good for me' thing a day then I'm providing some sort of nutrients and hey, it's not crystal meth, right?

I’ve lost another pound or so, which brings me up to something between 5 and 7 that I’ve lost so far. If I could keep this up it would be AWESOME (um, although I know it’s not good for the Potential Person). I’ve never been the kind of person to look in a mirror and think, ‘OhmygodlookathowdisgustingIam’ until now, which I think is interesting – the one time I’m SUPPOSED to gain some weight and wear it with pride, and I am freaking out about being the teletubby with the dirty hair and yoga pants. I don’t know if it’s hormones that make me so depressed about it, or the worry about the extra poundage being bad for Growing Alien Thing Inside Me, but man, I hate myself right now. A teensy part of me hopes this teenaged girl feeling sticks around after the Event-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, so that I am motivated to shed the baby weight and keep going. But for now, it’s only going to get worse. I can’t wait to get all defensive and angry and freak out when someone asks if I’m pregnant, and then be like, ‘Oh, yeah, hold on, right, I actually am’. And then they’re like, ‘Hmph, crazy pregnant lady’. And I’m like, ‘Dude, you don’t know the half of it’.