I realized as I was preparing to write this post that I never wrote about the first food debacle.  A few weeks ago, I started to crave rice krispy treats.  I put it off for a while because 1) I eat too much sugar right now and 2) we had enough sweet stuff in the house.  But finally, one night I had had it with waiting and made some.  I cut a nice big one and headed off to the bedroom with it.  Chewy was in the bathroom as I passed and he asked me a question.  I had been about to take a big bite but stopped myself to answer his question.  As I turned back for that bite – the treat fell from my hand and on to the hallway floor.  Ruined.  Who knows what is on that floor, and the cat always walks down the hall after he uses the liter box so there was no way I was going to eat this treat.  I cried out in pain and grief and picked it up, threw it away in the closet trash can.  Chewy asked what happened and I told him my treat fell.  My eyes filled with tears as saying it aloud made it real.

“Get another one,” he suggested.

“It’s fine. I’m just going to brush my teeth.” I sulked toward the other bathroom.

I guess Chewy heard something in my voice because he popped his head around the door frame, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I lacked conviction.

He came to me, saw that I was crying and panicked as husbands do (and should) when their pregnant wife starts crying.  “I’ll go get you one.” he offered.

I shook my head.

“Just lay down in bed, I’ll bring you a good one.”

“It’s fine I don’t need it.”  (I’m such a sugar martyr)

Chewy gave me a hug and started to crack jokes.  He made me laugh but sadly, didn’t get me to stop crying.  So I was laughing/crying and when he pulled away from the hug I think he may have panicked some more about the state I was in.  I don’t know why I was crying so uncontrollably about a rice krispy treat hitting the floor….there was almost an entire pan of them in the kitchen.

I calmed myself down before bedtime, but I didn’t go get another treat that night.

OK – so now that you are caught up on that history.  I swore to myself that night that I would not get Foodmotional again.  But then Saturday came around.

We had a busy day, Jartha (my sister Martha and her husband Jeff), came to pain the nursery.  I took their two girls to the “park” (a playground at the church around the corner).  They were really well behaved, but my feet were swelling and it was a struggle to keep them pink instead of blue.  So we went back to the house for the end of the painting and tried to watch a movie.  They left and I was just exhausted. Which I probably would have felt weather or not I had babysat.  I don’t really remember much else about the day, but I needed to go to the grocery store, and while there I planned to pick up something for dinner.  Chewy suggested fried chicken, so I got that in my brain.

I arrived to Martin’s around 7 p.m. and picked up the items I needed.  I made my way to the deli.  The chicken case was mostly cleared out.  One side was completely empty and washed, the other had gaps where pans had been removed and the sickly remains of the dinner rush stared up at me.  I didn’t care, there had to be good chicken somewhere back there, it was only 7.  But no one came.  I waited and waited.  I even checked out what cold chicken they had packed up.  Nothing fit what we needed.

I began to walk away from the case..but I wanted someone (or some thing) to know I was thoroughly annoyed.  I turned and gave the chicken case the stink face.  You know the one, I just posted about it and how I was going to try and not do that anymore….This one.


I hope that chicken case got the message and sent it along to the employees hiding somewhere in the back shirking their customer service responsibilities to hungry pregnant women…

Before I even got to the check out I had consoled myself…I would go to Hardee’s and get an eight piece and with that they would have the oh-so-delicious biscuits.  To get there is kind of a pain though.  I had to drive past it and couldn’t make a U-turn at the first or second light, I had to drive down a ways before I could U-turn.  Then I pull in…I drive up to the menu outside and all I see are burgers.  The voice came over the loudspeaker asking if I wanted to try something and I asked, “Do you still sell fried chicken?”

“No, we don’t sell fried chicken anymore.”

In my head – “Then what is the point of you?”*  If I wanted Carl’s Jr. I would move out West.

The lady continues, “we have chicken strips though.” P.S. when you want fried chicken, that LOOKS like chicken, you are not in the mood for strips that have too much breading on them.  I told her never mind and drove off.  But I hoped that no one inside could see me because I could already feel my face contorting into ‘pathetic sob mode’.

In fact – I cried all the way home.  I sat in the car once arriving home and cried.  I texted Mart because I was embarrassed but I had to talk to someone about it and I felt like I had cried too much recently in front of Chewy.

I finally got myself together and went into the house.  I put the groceries away and walked past Chewy, “no chicken tonight” I said.

He followed me to the room where I threw myself on the bed. “Is that because you changed your mind?”

“No.” Enter stage left, foodmotional breakdown.  I explained everything to him.  He said he’d find me chicken somewhere, but I really only like Ukrop’s chicken (sold at pathetic Martin’s) and Hardee’s.  He offered to order pizza but for once, that didn’t sound good to me.  So I did the food martyr again and said I was just going to go to bed.  I didn’t though, I ended up just eating peanut butter crackers.

It’s so hard being pregnant and having food desires you are unable to satisfy.


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