Thursday, September 20, 2007

Of Food and Fat Clothes

A few weeks ago, I noticed that while I can eat pretty much anything, absolutely nothing is satisfying me. I mean, I feel hunger, but everything sounds about as appetizing as corrugated cardboard. Pregnancy has robbed me of my favorite hobby: food.

After years of hating and being obsessed with food, I finally started to like food. It took me until almost 22 years, but the love affair between me and food has been as torrid and passionate as any bodice ripping Fabio be-covered romance novel would have us believe. I think about food, I research food, I watch tv about food, I talk about food. Hell, I menu plan just so I have another excuse to think about food.

And now, food has left me unsatisfied with no other alternative. Even foods I love leave me flaccid and disappointed. This is bullshit. Nothing has enough flavor to make me happy. So, I’ve been cooking the most pungent, flavor loaded food you can imagine. But even my glorious black bean chili failed. French fries…don’t even ask. When it comes time to make dinner, I can’t shake this feeling of “why bother?”

Just like *that* all my normal vim and vigor is reduced to a mere monotony of events. It is sad.

Also sad: The state of my wardrobe. I purchased about 6 work-appropriate maternity outfits. And I officially either hate, or am quickly out growing them all. I have a hard time justifying spending money on clothes normally, let alone clothing I know I will have no use for in as little as 3 months. And did you know that you can’t find a single maternity shirt without ruffled sleeves? Because you can’t. And you know how I’m the opposite of femme? Yeah. To quote my older sister, “Cute shirt. But those ruffled sleeves do make you look a bit like you’re in drag.” I kind of thought so too. Damn.

I’m tired. Is it time to go home yet?

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