Something you might not know about me (because I just remembered): in high school, I ate a lot. I must have had a really fast metabolism, at least freshman and sophomore years. You wouldn't want to be around me if I got hungry. You may not want to be around me now. I get antsy, and evil. I'm a little better now about controlling my temper when the blood sugar is low, but now that I'm pregnant again, not really. Actually now, I don't get angry, I just get desperate. If my stomach gets empty at all, I get Really Green. So I have to eat a lot, again. I do enjoy eating, so it's not really a problem, because you know, it's what I have to do, baby weight gain be damned. Although, I don't notice that I'm gaining so much weight. Maybe my metabolism has shot up again. Maybe I'm fooling myself. Regardless, I'm a hungry, hungry girl.
In high school, as my friend J. can attest, whenever I did get hungry, I'd call out, "Food refill!" Kind of a request, demand, and warning all in one. Meant it to be charming, but really, it's kind of rude, right? I mean, polite to warn others of impending irrational lash-out, I suppose, but I wonder why I didn't just get up and get myself a snack? Must be I only reserved that for visits to others' houses. Must be I found it less rude to warn and request rather than pretend I lived there.
Anyway, I'm thinking at this juncture, it's very lucky that we own our home and posess a well-stocked fridge and pantry. They don't always have everything a girl could want at her disposal, all the time (like where are those fucking cheese sticks already?!), but they contain a lot. For instance, at 10:52 this morning, I am feasting on Doritos. How lucky is that? So lucky. I like to think of it as my post-breakfast breakfast, or perhaps my pre-lunch lunch. I eat at least 5 meals a day now, have I mentioned? And it doesn't even make me blink. Because it's all about fending off the Green, people, it's my only goal.
Food refill!
Showing posts with label being green. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being green. Show all posts
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
unseemly
I've noticed over the past few days certain unseemly habits and patterns developing as a result of this pregnancy. Some are old and have simply returned; others are freshly disturbing. It's a result of tiredness and over-hormonalness and I-don't-care-ness, and sometimes it's just an attempt to uncurl myself from the vile little ball of inertia that I so often become. Here, at the moment, are some:
1. I don't recycle as much. Cardboard boxes, yogurt containers, any other plastics or cans that require too much washing out, or whatever, go in the trash. Sometimes I'll have just taken down an armload of stuff from the kitchen to the laundry room where our bins are, and I really don't want to see the pile by the sink accumulate again. It's all so tedious, this cycle. And won't cardboard just disintegrate back to the earth, anyway? What's the difference if it's crammed in with all the other non-recyclables.
2. I am consuming hot dogs at an alarming rate. In the past 24 hours, beginning at 9PM yesterday evening, I have eaten 4. All have been sliced lengthwise, microwaved for 39 seconds, and then absolutely smothered in mustard and (essential) ketchup. It's like, if the ketchup wasn't there, I might cry. In fact, my last hot dog today tipped upside-down onto the plate after being condimented, and the mustard and the ketchup smeared all over, and I almost did cry.
4. I'm not good at reading anymore. (Except, as always, Harry Potter.) I can't focus. I really like the book I'm reading, The Jane Austen Book Club, but it's extremely slow-going, and it's mainly because I keep getting caught up in daydreams about all the other books I want to read, or should have already read. Oh, and if I feel Too Green, I won't even try to read. I just stare.
5. I get really mad when the news preempts regularly scheduled programming. Oh wait, that has nothing to do with pregnancy. All I can say is, I was really caught up in Suzanne Somers' story about her Malibu home burning to the ground today during Ellen, and I did not need to see W's little speech about the 4-year anniversary of the Iraq War. Something that, over the next few days, will be replayed a million times and analyzed to death on news programs, anyway. I feel very strongly that there should be corresponding stations you can flip to in such an event, where the show you were watching continues to play. These channels would also be available during major weather events. Anyone wish to join my letter-writing campaign?
Quite sure there will be more to come.
1. I don't recycle as much. Cardboard boxes, yogurt containers, any other plastics or cans that require too much washing out, or whatever, go in the trash. Sometimes I'll have just taken down an armload of stuff from the kitchen to the laundry room where our bins are, and I really don't want to see the pile by the sink accumulate again. It's all so tedious, this cycle. And won't cardboard just disintegrate back to the earth, anyway? What's the difference if it's crammed in with all the other non-recyclables.
2. I am consuming hot dogs at an alarming rate. In the past 24 hours, beginning at 9PM yesterday evening, I have eaten 4. All have been sliced lengthwise, microwaved for 39 seconds, and then absolutely smothered in mustard and (essential) ketchup. It's like, if the ketchup wasn't there, I might cry. In fact, my last hot dog today tipped upside-down onto the plate after being condimented, and the mustard and the ketchup smeared all over, and I almost did cry.3. I don't exercise. Okay, but this time, I really, really, really want to try. I have prenatal exercise DVDs divvied by trimester and everything. It's just the Being Green thing, and... I don't know. The more resistant part of me feels that pregnant ladies should be allowed and in fact encouraged to lay around and be lump-like for the whole of their pregnancy.
4. I'm not good at reading anymore. (Except, as always, Harry Potter.) I can't focus. I really like the book I'm reading, The Jane Austen Book Club, but it's extremely slow-going, and it's mainly because I keep getting caught up in daydreams about all the other books I want to read, or should have already read. Oh, and if I feel Too Green, I won't even try to read. I just stare.
5. I get really mad when the news preempts regularly scheduled programming. Oh wait, that has nothing to do with pregnancy. All I can say is, I was really caught up in Suzanne Somers' story about her Malibu home burning to the ground today during Ellen, and I did not need to see W's little speech about the 4-year anniversary of the Iraq War. Something that, over the next few days, will be replayed a million times and analyzed to death on news programs, anyway. I feel very strongly that there should be corresponding stations you can flip to in such an event, where the show you were watching continues to play. These channels would also be available during major weather events. Anyone wish to join my letter-writing campaign?
Quite sure there will be more to come.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
note to self
Dear Future Penelope,*
The next time you want to have another baby, I want you to come back and read this very post. Maybe you'll get the 10-month itch like the last time around, where you were like, ooo, aren't babies cute! and think it's time to start trying again. Or maybe you'll be smarter and wait a few years. Either way, listen up:
Being pregnant=NOT FUN. Particularly Being Green? REALLY NOT FUN. What you are apparently remembering is the END RESULT, i.e. THE BABY, who yes, is in fact very cute and fantastic on so many levels. The fact that your labor wasn't the total stuff of nightmares does not in any way reflect the nine months leading up to it. Yes, it's super-cool when the baby begins to move. Yes, the idea of a new little person being created is "really neat." But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not fail to remember the following:
First Trimester=Land of Suckitude. Yes, you get to spread the news and say, woohoo! Yes, names are already floating around in your unsuspecting, selectively amnesiatic brain, as well as ways to reinvent the nursery. You're already, as a seasoned pro, making lists of what you really need this time, rather than what you think you really need. Great. Super. In the meantime, here comes Week 6. Then Week 7. Up to Week Yet to Be Determined. We're talking increasing nausea at all hours of the day. Nine o'clock bedtimes, giving you approximately 1/2-hour out of the whole day to yourself, most of which is spent fighting heavy eyelids.
Then you start to vomit, usually in the morning. The time when it is most painful, because there's nothing in your stomach to purge. It's like a hangover without the fun times preceding. And you know you need to eat and fill your stomach, but everything will sound absolutely disgusting. And then when you force yourself to pick something, it will be absolute torture to ingest. It may or may not take the edge off. In the meantime, you know you should drink water, but from the second you found out you were pregnant, water became instantly abhorrent! So in no time at all, you're going to feel dehydrated. Cracked lips and everything. Which is not only not good for you or the baby, but it also makes you feel more nauseated. It's a vicious freaking cycle, Future Penelope. DO NOT FORGET.
Along with Being Green, you absolutely also cannot forget your increased sensitivity to, oh, I don't know, everything? You're already a sensitive girl, and Future Penelope, you may think I'm exaggerating, that it's really not possible for you to become any more sensitive than you already are, but YOU WILL. Being Green coupled with any sort of perceived environmental shift like heat, cold, hungry, itchy, etc, makes those shifts seem insurmountable. You won't want to do whatever it takes to correct the situation for yourself, however small. You'll just want to curl up in an irritable little ball and wish the world away. EXCEPT THAT YOU'LL HAVE TWO, COUNT THEM TWO, CHILDREN DEMANDING YOUR ATTENTION. ONE WAS DIFFICULT ENOUGH.
One last thing, and remember, we're addressing just the First Trimester here. We won't even get into the heartburn, various organ pressures, sleeping issues, increasingly uncomfortable OB appointments (remember the gestational diabetes test??? drinking the sugared-out juice when you already felt like vomiting? FUN!!!!!!), wanting the baby out in the last few weeks, and then actually GETTING THE BABY OUT. We won't even go there right now. You need to know, at this crossroads moment, that you also become, as a person, seriously un-fun. Downer Penelope. A bane to yourself most of all, much less poor J.Lo. Because you're sick all the time, and not yourself anyway, and the whole physical world feels like an assault, and you kind of hate all your clothes, and you just don't know what you were thinking anyway--pretty much, you're a bitch. Which makes you annoyed with yourself and the situation (all self-created, mind) even more, which is yet another vicious cycle.
In conclusion, I'm warning you, Future Penelope. Don't do it to yourself. At least not with extraordinarily careful consideration and committment to the cause. YOUR BODY DOESN'T HANDLE IT WELL. Much less your mind.
Waving My Arms in Warning,
Penelope in many shades of green
*A note to the little baby inside: Mommy's current discomfort with life has nothing to do with you, sweetie. She doesn't regret one iota that you're on the way. She just desires desperately to take a little vacation from her body at the moment, and is a wee bit frustrated that it's all going so similarly the second time around. (Hey, does that mean you're a girl, too? Just wondering.) Love you!
The next time you want to have another baby, I want you to come back and read this very post. Maybe you'll get the 10-month itch like the last time around, where you were like, ooo, aren't babies cute! and think it's time to start trying again. Or maybe you'll be smarter and wait a few years. Either way, listen up:
Being pregnant=NOT FUN. Particularly Being Green? REALLY NOT FUN. What you are apparently remembering is the END RESULT, i.e. THE BABY, who yes, is in fact very cute and fantastic on so many levels. The fact that your labor wasn't the total stuff of nightmares does not in any way reflect the nine months leading up to it. Yes, it's super-cool when the baby begins to move. Yes, the idea of a new little person being created is "really neat." But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not fail to remember the following:
First Trimester=Land of Suckitude. Yes, you get to spread the news and say, woohoo! Yes, names are already floating around in your unsuspecting, selectively amnesiatic brain, as well as ways to reinvent the nursery. You're already, as a seasoned pro, making lists of what you really need this time, rather than what you think you really need. Great. Super. In the meantime, here comes Week 6. Then Week 7. Up to Week Yet to Be Determined. We're talking increasing nausea at all hours of the day. Nine o'clock bedtimes, giving you approximately 1/2-hour out of the whole day to yourself, most of which is spent fighting heavy eyelids.
Then you start to vomit, usually in the morning. The time when it is most painful, because there's nothing in your stomach to purge. It's like a hangover without the fun times preceding. And you know you need to eat and fill your stomach, but everything will sound absolutely disgusting. And then when you force yourself to pick something, it will be absolute torture to ingest. It may or may not take the edge off. In the meantime, you know you should drink water, but from the second you found out you were pregnant, water became instantly abhorrent! So in no time at all, you're going to feel dehydrated. Cracked lips and everything. Which is not only not good for you or the baby, but it also makes you feel more nauseated. It's a vicious freaking cycle, Future Penelope. DO NOT FORGET.
Along with Being Green, you absolutely also cannot forget your increased sensitivity to, oh, I don't know, everything? You're already a sensitive girl, and Future Penelope, you may think I'm exaggerating, that it's really not possible for you to become any more sensitive than you already are, but YOU WILL. Being Green coupled with any sort of perceived environmental shift like heat, cold, hungry, itchy, etc, makes those shifts seem insurmountable. You won't want to do whatever it takes to correct the situation for yourself, however small. You'll just want to curl up in an irritable little ball and wish the world away. EXCEPT THAT YOU'LL HAVE TWO, COUNT THEM TWO, CHILDREN DEMANDING YOUR ATTENTION. ONE WAS DIFFICULT ENOUGH.
One last thing, and remember, we're addressing just the First Trimester here. We won't even get into the heartburn, various organ pressures, sleeping issues, increasingly uncomfortable OB appointments (remember the gestational diabetes test??? drinking the sugared-out juice when you already felt like vomiting? FUN!!!!!!), wanting the baby out in the last few weeks, and then actually GETTING THE BABY OUT. We won't even go there right now. You need to know, at this crossroads moment, that you also become, as a person, seriously un-fun. Downer Penelope. A bane to yourself most of all, much less poor J.Lo. Because you're sick all the time, and not yourself anyway, and the whole physical world feels like an assault, and you kind of hate all your clothes, and you just don't know what you were thinking anyway--pretty much, you're a bitch. Which makes you annoyed with yourself and the situation (all self-created, mind) even more, which is yet another vicious cycle.
In conclusion, I'm warning you, Future Penelope. Don't do it to yourself. At least not with extraordinarily careful consideration and committment to the cause. YOUR BODY DOESN'T HANDLE IT WELL. Much less your mind.
Waving My Arms in Warning,
Penelope in many shades of green
*A note to the little baby inside: Mommy's current discomfort with life has nothing to do with you, sweetie. She doesn't regret one iota that you're on the way. She just desires desperately to take a little vacation from her body at the moment, and is a wee bit frustrated that it's all going so similarly the second time around. (Hey, does that mean you're a girl, too? Just wondering.) Love you!
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
a weird but true thing to say
I love my optometrist. I do. Here's all the things I love about her:
1. She doesn't make me do the eye-puff test. You know, the test where they check for glaucoma? It just doesn't work with me. I've wholly convinced my mind that tiny darts will launch directly into my eyeballs in place of air, I've psyched myself out for the next 50 visits at least, and it will just never happen. They don't even try with me anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't let 'em. Today, actually, I just looked at the machine and said, "Yeah, I don't do that." And I received no argument whatsoever.
2. She's very conversational and friendly, and in a down-to-earth way. She made just the right amount of fuss over the fact that I was pregnant and feeling ill for it. She took it in stride, but wasn't dismissive. She wasn't over-the-top excited, either. (I kinda hate that.)
3. Because I was feeling ill, she got me right the hell out of there. No dilation of the eyes, very few flippy-flippies of the lenses to check, double-check, and re-re-check which Rx I needed. She knew the prescrip, and didn't mess with it.
4. She thinks marijuana should be legalized, particularly for things like nausea. But then was quick to say, "Not that I would smoke if I were pregnant, my baby would come out high."
5. She is my number one cheerleader for someday getting Lasik surgery. I realize that she probably is for all her patients, but I still like hearing it anyway. I'm literally half-blind, so Lasik would be a really big deal for me. I'm thinking part of a tax return a few years from now? I can dream.
6. She told the guy over in the eyeglasses department to give me half off the price whatever I picked. This literally saved me almost $200.
7. She also told the same guy that I had full permission to run out of the building at any time I desired, due to Being Green.
I guess overall, my optometrist's bedside manner is on point. Is that the right context for that phrase? I think I just like to say on point. What I mean is, it's pretty perfect. Oh, and also, I can't wait to get my snazzy new eyeglasses, woohoo.
1. She doesn't make me do the eye-puff test. You know, the test where they check for glaucoma? It just doesn't work with me. I've wholly convinced my mind that tiny darts will launch directly into my eyeballs in place of air, I've psyched myself out for the next 50 visits at least, and it will just never happen. They don't even try with me anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't let 'em. Today, actually, I just looked at the machine and said, "Yeah, I don't do that." And I received no argument whatsoever.
2. She's very conversational and friendly, and in a down-to-earth way. She made just the right amount of fuss over the fact that I was pregnant and feeling ill for it. She took it in stride, but wasn't dismissive. She wasn't over-the-top excited, either. (I kinda hate that.)
3. Because I was feeling ill, she got me right the hell out of there. No dilation of the eyes, very few flippy-flippies of the lenses to check, double-check, and re-re-check which Rx I needed. She knew the prescrip, and didn't mess with it.
4. She thinks marijuana should be legalized, particularly for things like nausea. But then was quick to say, "Not that I would smoke if I were pregnant, my baby would come out high."
5. She is my number one cheerleader for someday getting Lasik surgery. I realize that she probably is for all her patients, but I still like hearing it anyway. I'm literally half-blind, so Lasik would be a really big deal for me. I'm thinking part of a tax return a few years from now? I can dream.
6. She told the guy over in the eyeglasses department to give me half off the price whatever I picked. This literally saved me almost $200.
7. She also told the same guy that I had full permission to run out of the building at any time I desired, due to Being Green.
I guess overall, my optometrist's bedside manner is on point. Is that the right context for that phrase? I think I just like to say on point. What I mean is, it's pretty perfect. Oh, and also, I can't wait to get my snazzy new eyeglasses, woohoo.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
cure?!
Okay, so I totally vomited this morning, for the first time this pregnancy, a detail I'm quite sure is TMI, but there's little else happening in life at the moment, so there it is. I suppose I could have chosen to talk about Australia's Next Top Model instead... which, I might actually do in another post. But for now, vomit.
No, not vomit. Because even though I vomited today, yesterday I did not vomit. I feel this may possibly be in part due to something that truly (even if temporarily) made me feel better: yogurt! Yogurt?!
Indeed. Stonyfield Farm fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, in strawberry and blueberry flavors, which is ever so much healthier for a prego than, say, Oreo Choco-Stix. Pretty much when you're feeling Green, you have to eat something, even if you don't want to. And since you're Green, and feeling sorry for yourself anyway, it follows that you absolutely should have what you're most craving. Pickles, chips and (mild) salsa, meatballs, macaroni and cheese. Yesterday I ate all of these, and then in the afternoon, to combat the 3 PM Being Green Wave, I chose yogurt. And it really seemed to do the trick, as it almost completely abolished the Being Green feeling for an hour or two--as opposed to partial abolishment, which is typically what happens with Being Green snackage. And then, later in the evening, I ate more yogurt, and almost felt... good. Like if I woke up the next day feeling that good, I might consider... working out.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. However, maybe with a little more help from Stonyfield Farm and COSTCO, I'll only Be a Pale Shade of Lime.
No, not vomit. Because even though I vomited today, yesterday I did not vomit. I feel this may possibly be in part due to something that truly (even if temporarily) made me feel better: yogurt! Yogurt?!
Indeed. Stonyfield Farm fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, in strawberry and blueberry flavors, which is ever so much healthier for a prego than, say, Oreo Choco-Stix. Pretty much when you're feeling Green, you have to eat something, even if you don't want to. And since you're Green, and feeling sorry for yourself anyway, it follows that you absolutely should have what you're most craving. Pickles, chips and (mild) salsa, meatballs, macaroni and cheese. Yesterday I ate all of these, and then in the afternoon, to combat the 3 PM Being Green Wave, I chose yogurt. And it really seemed to do the trick, as it almost completely abolished the Being Green feeling for an hour or two--as opposed to partial abolishment, which is typically what happens with Being Green snackage. And then, later in the evening, I ate more yogurt, and almost felt... good. Like if I woke up the next day feeling that good, I might consider... working out. Unfortunately, such was not the case. However, maybe with a little more help from Stonyfield Farm and COSTCO, I'll only Be a Pale Shade of Lime.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
it ain't easy
Last night, around midnight, marked the fateful return of morning sickness. Clearly "morning sickness," being an all-hours affair, is not remotely an accurate term, so I shall heretofore (henceforth?) refer to morning sickness as Being Green. I am not a fan of Being Green. Who is, I know. Being Green prevents one from falling asleep again after sleeping so peacefully for three hours already at least. Being Green is clearly going to make me even more boring of a person than I already have been, these past few weeks. Because before Being Green, at least I could eat.I should have known I would turn Green yesterday, as I was ravenous the whole day through. It was like Pen's Last Supper, or Last Lunch. And Second to Last Lunch, and Third to Last Lunch. Seriously, I had three lunches, as well as dinner, and quite a few cookies. Which, one might argue, may (should) have contributed to Being Green. But Being Green is
***Breaking K.Lo update: the Bug has learned to turn on the TV with the remote, and has chosen to watch Full House. Eeegad. She is currently bopping to the intro music. This can't be good.***
also marked by emptiness. Like your stomach is eating itself, and you should feed it so that it can eat the food instead, but absolutely nothing appeals. And then you feel like you should probably drink some water too, because water is good for you, but water is like, super-gross. So you do nothing, and try to just sleep, try to imagine that it's all fake and part of your overactive imagination. I wish it was. Maybe it is? More on this soon.
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