Monday, November 8, 2010

11/8/2010 - It can't get any better than this

Sweet Husband called from work to remind me that we have very little, if any, food in the house. Not in an asshole kind of way, just in a "I'm eating Saltines and walnuts for lunch, something's gotta give" kind of way. Which is totally true. I haven't been to the grocery store in at least two weeks, which is terribly uncharacteristic of me. I usually pop in at least three times a week, but ever since I've been feeling like a I've had the flu and just stepped off the the Tilt-A-Whirl, I haven't been up for the grocery store. The smells in that place alone would kill me. I'm hardly eating anything at this point anyway, so the food shortage kind of went unnoticed. Anyway, I decided to take one for the team and head to the grocery this afternoon to get the bare minimum (lunch meat and bread and cereal will last SH for weeks). The effort felt tremendous. Pushing a cart, attempting to smile at strangers who passed me in the aisle, locating the right coupons upon check out...exhausting. So I finished my purchase and headed out to my car. As I exited and crossed the road, my stomach flip-flopped. "No, no" I think "You never throw up at 3:30! No, no. Just breathe." I hurry. When I got to my car I notice there is a fire truck parked two spaces away from me and hot, I mean HOT, firemen are exiting. Afraid that I look as horrible as I feel (no makeup, crappy clothes, hair is a mess), I try and hurry my packages into the backseat of my car when the throw up decides it can no longer wait. I brace myself against my car, slam the back door shut and squat as low as I can, hoping I can actually fit under my car and go unnoticed. Not so. As I empty the contents of my stomach (one baked potato, which actually looks like a slimy version of Thanksgiving mashies at this point), the hot, hot men walk by. Do they ignore? Hell no. "Oh man! Ma'am, are you okay??" The silver haired one rushes over while the others stand and stare. I try to say "yes, thank you" as if what I'm doing is totally in the spectrum of normal behavior, when another wave hits and I barf onto the asphalt yet again. Mortified I give a thumbs up and then wave them away. They reluctantly step away and walk slowly toward the store. I stay down until they are out of sight, hop in my car and race off crying.
Now here's the kicker. What in the hell do you do with throw up in a parking lot? I can't clean that up without a hose. I mean, I'm with you, it sucks for the next person who scores my spot, but what was I to do? I feel really bad, but the chances of me ever showing my face there again are pretty slim at this point.
This whole food business is not at all what I thought. I figured I'd be having ferocious cravings for home baked chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the night, or demand ice cream for every meal. I dreamt about looking my loving husband in the eye and announcing that if there wasn't a large slice of chocolate frosted cake in front of me in five minutes, somebody would get hurt. It's not like that at all. Food is categorized into two sections with me. The first, things I ABSOLUTELY can not eat under any circumstances: cooked spinach (especially of the creamed variety), chicken of any sort, lemon dressing, onions, Thai food (that sucks), most cooked vegetables, etc. The second category contains foods I can eat without barfing immediately. This list includes; cheese, bread products of any kind, bananas, apples and applesauce, corn tortillas, any fruit soda (something I wouldn't come 100 feet from before pregnant), eggs (only if over easy), etc. After I eat any of these "okay" foods, I'm immediately ill and wish I could just stop eating all together. Where is the love for pickles and ice cream??? French fries with chocolate sauce (that just made me gag)??? What kind of raw deal IS this??
But it's comforting to know, as I sip the last lukewarm remnants of my hot tea, that somewhere out there I will be the funny story told around the dinner table at the fire house.
Pregnancy rocks!

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