Pregnancy

I’m not supposed to eat that.

Before I was pregnant, I always cringed at the phrase, “I’m not supposed to eat that.” Like, c’mon lady, if you want it so bad that you have to bitch about it all the time, then JUST EAT IT. Eat your hot dog and shut up about it.

Allow me to humbly say: I get it now.

Hot dogs sound super disgusting to me right now, but I could go for all the forbidden cheeses. And some sushi, and let’s not forget: wine, beer, or a giant margarita. When I pause to think about it, though, it seems like such a small thing to give up. I’m a little wistful for a margarita, on a patio in warm weather, but it’s not hard to give up at all. That marg will be waiting for me in September 🙂

Oh, but let’s not pretend that I’m perfect. It’s totally easy to give up these forbidden foods 99.9% of the time, but I don’t feel bad about that .1% that’s slipped through:

A few weeks ago (before I started showing at all), I slowly sipped half a beer with my dinner. I figured it was my last chance to order a drink without being judged.

I ate real sushi one time, and it was delicious. It was from a place I trust to be fresh, where I have eaten many times before, so I just wasn’t worried about it. But since then, I figured out that I could hit that sushi craving with vegetable-only rolls. So that’s easy.

I ate a salad with feta the other day, just because I forgot it was verboten. I figure all the veggies did me good, though, so I’m not worried.

I ate deli turkey one time. My sandwich came from a busy shop, so I felt sure it would be freshly sliced. It was a delicious bright spot in a very long 2 months (and counting) of “morning” sickness, and I just find myself unable to feel guilty about it.

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