For the past 9 months, I've been following the pregnancy diet. I read the books, and I ate what they told me to, and I pretty much avoided the things they told me to do without. I sacrificed my daily Dr. Pepper, and it became a weekly, much-anticipated treat. I stopped eating lunch meats and hot dogs. I stopped eating things filled with MSG. Brocoli, fresh spinach, carrots, peas, fresh fruit, dried fruit, etc., have been showing up at just about every meal. Chips are a rare thing of beauty in this house, along with anything fried or super sugary. I'm watering down my no-sugar added juice. I eat roasted, unsalted peanuts. Skim milk is the new order of the day. I'm eating reduced-fat Cheezits, folks. I haven't had a Cheeto since July. Everything is half the sugar, half the fat, and half the flavor. Most of my diet is low fat and preservative free. And may I just say.... I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!! It's time for this baby to come out so I can have a Festival of Junk Food! In the past month, I've been slowly sliding off the wagon. I'm drinking more than one Dr. Pepper a week now. I buy candy bars sometimes at the grocery store, furtively looking over my shoulder to see if anyone is glaring at me with condemnation. I bought ice cream this week, even though I assuaged my guilt by making it low fat/double churned. And I bought a box of oatmeal creme pies, even though I sent most of them to work with David. All along, I have allowed myself little splurges from time to time, but for the most part, I've been really good in the eating department. I haven't bought bad things for me at the grocery store so I wouldn't be eating them at home.
But my will power is cracking. I'm going to go over the edge soon. I want a tall glass of Dr. Pepper so big I could drown in it, full of crushed ice, with the beautiful carbonated bubbles glistening before my eyes. I want to eat Ramen Noodles again, and I want a corn dog like you wouldn't believe. I want to taste the orangey goodness of something besides carrots, the artificial dayglo of a large bag of Cheetos. I want a king size Milky Way. And I want to eat it all without guilt! Mom, if you're reading this, I expect all these things in my recovery room at the hospital. If you can't support my consumption of them, then please stay in the waiting room while I revel in badness. David and I were talking about this last night as I told him that he had to get the oatmeal creme pies out of the house. He said, "This reminds me of that country song from a while back", and then he started singing it. I cracked up, because it sooo describes me right now. So, my fellow country fans, harken back to the 90's and this Blackhawk favorite:
So please, please, please go, I'm not strong enough to say no, Please, please don't stay I'm not man enough to walk away, Please, please pass by, I can't resist you even though I try,
So please go, I'm not strong enough to say no
'Cause when you're around my defenses go down, Feelings get stronger, looks get longer, The closer you come, the weaker I get, If it ain't happened now, just ain't happened yet
That's right, junk food. Stay out of my house; I'm not strong enough to say no. =)
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