Archive for April, 2012

Tin Roof: Nauseous!

Die, Lettuce, Die.

There’s a half-written post waiting in drafts right now while I write this.  I could work on that (it is quite a good vacation write up, I must say), but I rather just write this, even though I know for a fact I won’t be posting it for at least another seven days (at least).  Why all the italics?  I’m thinking the occasion calls for it, since it seems the other half of  this amusing food addict (we’ll call him, Tim)  placed a gluten-free bun in my yeast-free oven about six weeks ago.  In other words: yep,  I’m pregnant!

Prego, prego, pregnant, or as I like to refer to it, knocked up.  Right now all I seem to be referring to every day and all day long is the curious urge to yack at every turn.  Just writing the word ‘yack’ makes me want to spill the whole bag of Trader Joe’s yeast-free naan bread I ate for dinner last night into the nearest receptacle (otherwise known as The Printer).  It may make some wonder what it’s like for a person who’s dedicated half their life to the worship and writing of food to be so innately and suddenly  turned off by that very thing.  It’s, in a word,  interesting.   The actual joy of having such a blessed and wonderfully-timed total life  change, you’d think,  would make the constant nausea worth it.  At this point I’m taking an emotionally ripped-out page from the likes of The Secret, Mike Dooley’s Leveraging the Universe and something positive I read in a Guidepost magazine and lying myself into intention-filled, hormone-induced acceptance.  Honestly, we’re both absolutely delighted, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel like I’m turning into an alien (cause, well, I am.  Or least I’m housing one for a predetermined amount of time). To have one whole category of all that is edible suddenly turn into a  smorgasbord of intestinal terror that ecapsulates all five senses and makes you feel like a psychopathic jungle cat is, yes, difficult.  But it’s kind of amusing, too.

For one, there are things that I do eat. All day. Without ending.  There are foods  I crave that I begged my body weeks ago to want (like carrots, celery and salad) and others that catch my eye out of nowhere (like the half jar of salad olives I devoured last night along with that poor bag of naan).  These things make up for the fact that edibles I delighted in just a few weeks prior – steak, chicken, more steak, more chicken – have the ability to turn my stomach with merely a scent.  I think that it’s doubly amusing and ironic that someone like me who is very candid about her weekly and sometimes daily struggles with food allergies wants nothing more than the very roughage-heavy diet of the average house rabbit (again, all day, all the time).  I’ve consumed enough LaraBars to buy stock with the company!  I’m going to turn orange, move to Hoboken, and start my own reality show if I don’t lay off the carrots a little!  I worked through two consecutive  baggies of celery and wheat crackers, plus half a gallon of water at the movies while watching The Hunger Games with my cousin on Monday (irony at its best)! If you’ve never had a massage therapist devour a stalk of celery between elbows thrusts to your rhomboids, it’s quite an experience, let me tell you (or so I was told by the woman who practically leapt off of the table *topless, mind you* to wrap her arms around my neck when I gave her the happy news, and the reason why I was crunching between therapeutic strokes)!

All in all, I can’t wait to tell the world that a new and improved foodie will soon be added to this already over-populated Earth. I’m biting my tongue between sweet chews of chocolate energy bars and copious swallows of ginger and chamomile tea.  That day will come soon, and when it does my mouse will hit publish and you will see this post loud and clear.  Until then, I put both hands on my ever-swelling belly and make a wish, knowing that  magic is just around the bend, and miracles are already coming true.

Cellina – The Hopeful (and gestating!) Foodie


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