Bleh. That's how I'm feeling these days. Just bleh.
When I was pregnant with Faith, I was never nauseous. No cravings either. Just an extreme aversion to meat, especially ground beef. Bleh.
This time around, I figured it would be the same. Cue tiny baby inside my tummy laughing hysterically. Since about week 7-8 or so, I have been on the verge of tossing my cookies/hurling/worshiping the porcelain gods/insert cliche for puking here.
If you were about the hand me a Dixie cup and say, "If you're gonna spew, spew into this," forget it. I don't ever actually throw up, but just feel like I'm going to during pretty much all my waking hours.
There are certain foods that I can't even think about because they literally give me the willies.
First it was yogurt. Normally, I eat one cup a day. Now, I can't even go in the dairy aisle because the texture of yogurt is so appalling. Next it was black beans. My beloved black beans, how could you betray me? If I eat these again before I die, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
Then, most recently, I have developed a hatred for spaghetti. Rob even had the audacity to bring it up as a dinner idea last week. It is to the point that if someone says that word, I have to channel breads and cheeses to stop my lunch from returning.
The ONLY upside of all this is that things have really picked up in the cravings department. Here's what usually happens. I try to decide what to eat by thinking of things that don't gross me out. I come across something like "Pizza Hut cheesesticks." Then, I MUST. HAVE. PIZZA HUT CHEESESTICKS. I can't get them out of my mind. I'm like Taylor Swift and the cheesesticks are like little high school boys I've dated. Needless to say, I've been going to lunch by myself a lot lately to get my fixes. Five Guys. Taco Bell. I drove 20 minutes round trip the other day just to buy two chicken flavored Ramen Noodles and American cheese slices. The last time I ate this was probably my junior year of college.
And the other day I ate something from................ McDonalds. There, I said it.
Bleh. I HATE McDonalds (ice cream not included).
Before you go feeling too sorry for my husband, you should know that he takes advantage of me. No, not like that. I mean, he uses my pregnancy cravings and aversions to eat at fast food restaurants. My guard is down, my salt cravings are up and when I want something I usually want it RIGHT THEN. Fast food caters to McPregnancy.
Point Ronnie Mac. Damn those Golden Arches anyway...