If there is one thing this freaking two month nauseathon has done, other than instill ungodly amounts of paranoia, it has given me some window into the eating habits of the expectant – which I need to make very, abundantly, totally clear I am NOT. In fact, I just overheard a conversation my uterus was having with some other organs about how it is really looking forward to menstruating in about a week, and aren’t they all jealous that it can expel stuff without the aid of a sphincter?
I’ve graduated up to two Prilosec a day because of my overachieving acid pumps. (I’m so proud.) Anyway, the weird food things are weird. I don’t even recognize my own eating habits. The idea of a vegan calzone hit around 10:20 yesterday morning, and went from being a fabulous, urgently wonderful idea, to a super fabulous wonderful idea, to a completely unpalatable, horrifying idea, to an idea that I needed to eat in its entirety at 9:00 pm standing in front of the open refrigerator lest I start digesting my own stomach. I had another entire calzone for breakfast this morning, and it felt like it saved my life. Shit like this is happening daily, but I’m giving this one as an example because of the drama involved: a trip to Whole Foods AND Shoppers, two failed packets of yeast, and Scott’s first foray into the world of bread flour.
If I were to make a list of the weird things I’ve eaten and not eaten over the past two months I would be bored and tired because it’s a long list. But it’s really freaky, and I’m just glad as hell that the weird eating intervals are now stretching out to three hours instead of two hours and fifteen minutes (my digestion has graduated from being a poorly edited romantic comedy to an oscar contender), and aren’t quite as intense as they were two weeks ago, so I’m making progress. And, at the end of this I won’t have to put anyone through college.
—
So, I wrote all of that earlier, before I decided it would be a good idea to go to two hot classes tonight. I learned, in this process, that the experience of two consecutive very demanding hot classes is to be saved for special occasions, like when I’m coming off a fast and all full of energy and light. It is not to be done when I am so stressed that I flipped off my dog, and I feel like crap. The good news is that the Prilosec is actually working. Although I had a few, minor side effects that I think will pass, I also had a few moments today when I felt completely normal, which hasn’t happened in almost two months. Then I went and put myself through three hours of hot yoga which undid everything, and also threw off my eating schedule, so I can’t take a second Prilosec today.
I completely hate planning my day around pills. I have to take it before I eat, but I have to stop eating two or three hours before I go to bed, or I feel extra awful. I hate that my phobia about upper GI ailments has been stretched to its absolute limit, as I approach nearly two fucking months of nausea. It’s enough already. I’m mad at it. I really, really need for this to settle down, and while we’re at it for everyone around me to stop getting these awful viruses, because it is really not helping.
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
RSS