what a girl wants

Just one aspect of why being pregnant is so foreign and alienating: you become a tortured hedonist.

I declare myself a hedonist. When I don't want to go to work, I don't. I rarely feel bad about it. When I want to procrastinate in favor of reading blogs or plucking my eyebrows, I do. I watch mind-numbingly stupid reality shows and complain if Micah wants to watch the news for more than an hour. I like to be happy. I like to indulge.

Because I'm pregnant, I can't always do that. One of my biggest cravings lately is sushi, which I obviously can't have. Last year, for the very first time, I had good sushi. Until that time I had only eaten the kind you buy at the grocery store that comes with a pack of soy sauce and a hunk of wasabi. This good sushi experience I had was kind of a religious experience for me. It took two hours. I felt free to order more because sushi isn't so filling. Sure, it set us back over $100 (with generous cocktail consumption) but it was well worth it.

I can't have sushi, cocktails, cigarettes, soft cheeses (oh Brie, baby, I'll be back soon!), or even lunch meat because of listeria. That means no Quiznos, no Subway, no easy-peasy turkey sandwiches when I don't feel like cooking. (Ok, fine, I could have lunch meat if I steamed it first, but honestly who the fuck wants steamed lunch meat?)

So that's the tortured part. But within the torture there is hedonism, because I AM PREGNANT, which pretty much means if I can have it, I shall have it whenever, wherever, in whatever portions I deem fit. Slurpees, for instance. Yeah, ok, sugar ain't so great for me...I know I'm at risk for gestational diabetes just like every other gestating woman, but COME ON. There has got to be some give with all the take.

I cannot stop thinking about all the alcoholic bevies I will consume. Even though it is not my intention to start smoking cigarettes again, I fully intend to buy myself a pack of Camel Lights and smoke the hell outta them while I'm out having drinks that first lovely postpartum evening. What I don't finish I'll give away. But I am definitely at the point where all the things I'm not allowed to have consume my thoughts.

I am the tortured hedonist. It sucks. Yes, it's worth it, and as the kicking in my belly continues to get stronger, I realize that certain sacrifices will always be worth it. Did I tell you I haven't gained a pound since getting pregnant? Fat = awesome so very rarely, I must boast about it.