The craving that turned me into a stark raving lunatic

So, I finally came to grips with the fact that the scale is going to go up. That my clothes are going to get tight. That I was going o start craving things that are usually foreign to my diet. And that I would think about dinner right after I ate breakfast. After coming to grips with this, I sort of just said, "Okay, screw it, I'm going to go with it and indulge my cravings in moderation." Easy right?

Wrong. Because the world is against me.

I don't particularly care for milk. I also don't particularly care for ice cream (I am more of a cake girl) but one end of summer day, all I wanted after a nice lunch by the water was a kid's cone at Dairy Queen with butterscotch Dip-it. Granted, it's specific but not really because since I have been born Dip-it has been around at the local DQ. Stew was trying to push me towards an ice cream place a bit closer to home because he is a big believer in supporting smaller, local stores. And so am I. Except our smaller, local ice cream shop was closed and after peering through the door, we determined they also did not have butterscotch Dip-it.

Hi-ho- hi-ho, it's off to DQ we go. It was mobbed. We waited in line. Finally, it's my turn and I asked for a vanilla kid's cone with butterscotch Dip-it. I swear the baby kicked me or did some sort of a backflip because he/she also got very excited for the taste of creamy ice cream smothered in a buttery sweet shell. And that first lick is almost the best because your tongue pressed the not quite hard yet shell into the ice cream and swirls a bit.

"We don't have butterscotch," The DQ guy said. "Only chocolate Dip-it."

I looked at Stew. This always happens to me. When I want something, it suddenly disappears from existence sometimes for a day or two and sometimes FOREVER.

"What? Why not? What if I wait until you make more?" I ask.

"We're out of it," The DQ guy AKA the RUINER OF DREAMS said.

I settled for chocolate (reluctantly) and finished it in about 8 bites. However, the whole ride home I am ruminating on this peculiar fact. "No butterscotch? How the F can they be out of butterscotch Dip-it? That, like, NEVER happens but it happens now, why? Because I wanted it, that's why. I'm cursed. Can I have some of your blizzard?"

Cut two a few weeks later. I wake up after a long, salty, oily dream dream about Cosi's Veggie Muffalatta sandwich. For those of you who are not familiar with this gem, I will explain. Imagine a big thick slice of eggplant, banana peppers, green onions, olives and provolone and Romano cheese in an olive oil vinaigrette dressing on Cosi's 7 grain flat bread. YUM!!! I know that veggies are hardly anything to get excited about but I LOVE this sandwich. The only drawback is, they usually dump so much oil on it, it immediately flips my stomach and sends me RUNNING to the nearest bathroom a half hour after eating it. My mom says it is responsible for making her sick for 6 weeks after she insanely asked fro EXTRA OIL and dumped it over the whole sandwich.

Depending on which employee is working the register, I can get it made without the oil or just very minimal oil. Altho' one day the manager tried to tell me that the oil was already premixed in and they can't remove it. "Well, that is funny," I said, "because sometimes i get it so dry that it only leaks pepper juice when I take a bite." Then again, this is the place that lists "dried cranberries" on their "create-your-own-salad" list but calls them Craisins on the register keys and leads every employee on a wild goose hunt looking for the "dried cranberries" key until I say, "It's the Craisins button."

So, anyway, Monday morning I woke up with a serious craving for my veggie Muffalatta. The entire time I am at physical therapy, all I am thinking about between strengthening exercises is how salty and wonderful that muffalatta is going to taste. I even have the brilliant idea of adding MORE hot peppers to it from my personal stash at home. Driving home, I am feeling slight guilt for having 3.5 lbs of meatloaf leftover in my fridge but I feel the baby twist and turn and remember why I want the muffalatta. What kind of mom would I be if I didn't give my baby what it wanted before it was too old to throw in-store tantrums? So, i pull off the exit closest to Cosi and walk in.

A few days ago, I got an e-mail from Cosi (because I have a Dough rewards card and when I registered, I gave them my email). Anyway, the e-mail was the usual seasonal introduction of new sandwiches. These new sandwiches are usually only limited edition sandwiches that never taste as good as they sound. The new sandwiches being introduced for the fall was a pulled pork sandwich sure to disappoint any pulled pork enthusiast and a fire roasted vegetable sandwich which sounded good until I got to the part about red and green peppers (I hate red peppers and if I know Cosi there is probably no way to get that sandwich without red peppers).

I walk in and quickly notice there is no free bread samples so I decide to linger by the menu for a bit until they put more out eventho I know damn well what i want and how I want it. Then, I notice it. The veggie muffalatta is noticeably absent from the menu. I go over to another menu to make sure I wasn't just looking at a defective menu. It wasn't on that menu either. Still unwilling to believe this might be happening, I went up toa cashier and asked her if they sell the veggie muffalatta anymore.

"Nooooooooooooo," she says. Well, actually, she said it quite normally but it echoed in my head as my entire butterscotch Dip-it covered universe caved in right before my eyes.

Now, I should have left. No, actually, I should have asked to speak to a manager and thrown my rewards key fob card at him and ask him what the fuck is the matter with this place. Why bring in something as shitteriffic as a pulled pork, keep something as offensive as BBQ chicken pizza and get rid of the muffallatta? But, the bread man just put out a heaping tray of warm sample bread and I had already helped myself to two heaping handfuls before I could think to do this. Dough bastards.

I looked over the menu again and tried to see what else tweaked me because now I ate their bread (knocking two small kids out of the way to get to said bread) and I felt guilty. I asked how the fire roasted veggie sandwich was and the cashier said "better than the muffalatta." Bitch.

"Can it be made without red peppers because I am very allergic to red peppers." (I'm not, but I learned that people listen to this request more than just saying you hate them because they don't want you dying in their establishment). I asked.

"Sure can," she said. "I just have to find the no peppers button."

"I'm betting there isn't one," I said TO MYSELF.

"There isn't one," she said. "I'll just put no red onions and they'll know."

Um. I'm not even going to question that. But, knowing that i was going to get a completely fucked up sandwich that I would end up pawning off on Stew, I also ordered a wasabi roast beef.

I waited by the counter and sure enough they handed me a bag with one sandwich in it and sent me on my way until I showed them my receipt that says TWO SANDWICHES. They quickly made the wasabi roast beef and I went on my way home. And of course, there were red peppers in my sandwich but no red onions and it was awful. I called my mom to express my rage. My dad answered.

"Dad, you are never going to believe this. Cosi stopped selling the veggie muffalatta!" I expected SOME sympathy from dad.

"Why? Because it made too many people's asses explode?" He asked.

"Probably, but still," I whined.

Seeing that i was getting nowhere, I hung up vowing to write Cosi a letter about this and demanding they bring it back. I don't care how many people's asses exploded from it, including mine.

Last night, after a nice greasy burger at Benny's I decided to cure my disappointment from Cosi by taking a trip to Dairy Queen again. Maybe this time they would have my butterscotch Dip-it. All I had to do was mention DQ and Stew was game. He was even more excited when I said it was my treat. We got in line and I ordered my medium vanilla with butterscotch Dip-it.

"We only have chocolate Dip-it" Mr. DQ said.

I wanted answers.

"Again? Are you just out of butterscotch or are you ever going to have it again? This is the second time?!?!?!"

"They took away our butterscotch and cherry until they could find us some made without transfat," Mr. DQ explained.

Then it hit me. Transfats must make your ass explode.

My husband is hormonal too

Nice, so apparently Stew is pregnant too. Yesterday, we both attacked some poor girl who was too stupid and self centered to know what she was doing wrong and was fully deserving of an attack in my book. Usually, I am the one to snap and Stew sits by trying to calm me down. But, this time, he joined in.

We were on our way to the starbucks next door when we encountered a girl in an Audi parked very poorly in the firelane outside CVS. In fact she wasn't even parked in the firelane as she was about a foot away from it. And she was also parked extremely crooked. There was a car behind her trying to get by her and my car trying to get by her and she refused to budge completey bocking the fow of traffic.

Stew started it. He started motioning for her to move and if she could hear him talking calmly, she may have heard him say, "move dummy." Then I started motioning for her to move but a bit more animated (read: psychotically) than Stew. If anyone knows me and has read previous rants on the ways of inconsiderate douchebags, they would know that parking in the firelane in the Newfield Shopping Center parking lot cutting off access to traffic who are not too f-ing lazy to find a spot and walk the few steps to their destination is right up there with bumping into me and not saying "sorry." And I'm pretty low on patience on any given day but even more so now.

Audi girl stared at us like a deer in headlights and started inching forward like that was going to allow for enough room for two cars to pass her. My window was rolled down a bit and even though her's was up all the way, I am sure my voice was loud enough to be carried through the lot when I began screaming that the firelane was not a parking space. Finally she stepped on the gas and took off allowing for a smooth flow of traffic again.

All night long laughed that my mild mannered husband finally joined me in a hormonal outrage. I was as proud as a mamma bear could be.

You may not want to watch, this isn't going to be pretty

I hate most of my underwear. I like them at first. Buy dozens of pairs. And then I wash them a few times or I gain a few pounds and I hate them again. They feel constricting. They rub my scars the wrong way. A few steps results in a wedgie. And now that i constantly feel bloated, I feel them cutting into me something fierce. So, the thought of being pregnant meant that I was well within my right to break out the granny panties that I save only for when Aunt Flow visits and wear them everyday. Of course, they are still cute GAP boyshort underwear but they are left over from my super fat days so they are nice and roomy considering a once larger body filled them and they are stretched to maximum capacity. I only have 4 pairs left so I do a lot of laundry and they are starting to show lots of wear and tear which makes me sad.

Anyway, I got a Kohl's circular in the mail last week so I made Stew go with me after dinner telling him that I really wanted to buy some really big giant underwear. Yup, nothing says "check that fun couple out, I wanna be like them" like a nice Mexican meal followed by midnight excursions to Kohl's. Yeeeeehaaa! Stew left me alone in the store for a little while but then he got bored and found me. I hadn't even made it to the bra/underwear section yet. It's sort of depressing shopping now because I know in a few months or less whatever I buy will make its way to the back of the closet and never be worn again for a very long time.

After picking up what appeared to be a very large and comfy nightgown I informed Stew that I was going to go look at underwear. I saw his eyes light up and then I dashed his hopes and dreams by informing him that they would be REALLY BIG undewear. "You may not want to watch, this won't be pretty," I said waving my hand towards a department he might enjoy more until I realized my hand was waving towards the purse section. Hell, even that was was going to be better than what I was about to do which was defile any notion of sexiness I had left in my marriage. He took the hint and walked away.

He returned a short time later while I was trying to decide if I should just go big or ALL OUT BIG. I decided to go ALL out and we made our way to the register. And to add insult to injury, I asked him for his Khol's card to pay because I had a coupon for an extra 15% off that I could only use with a card. Hey, I paid the bill when it came. I'm not that cruel.

The next morning after I my shower, I tore into my package of new underwear. I marveled at exactly how big they were which appeared to be about half the size of my pillow. I put them on and pulled them up to my neck. I still had plenty of room in my droopy drawers. Overcome with how comfortable they were, I began to dance around and swivel my hips like Elvis watching the excess fabric wave in the breeze. I stood at the top of the stairs and saw Stew plugging away on his laptop.

"Oh, Steee----ewwwww," I said. And when he looked up, I did my dance again and sang, "look at my gigantic underwear swinging in the breeze, hanging to my knees."

He only laughed. Because, really, what else could he do? Crying at the unsexiness would have been unacceptable.

The results are in .....

Actually, the results were in last week but I have been typing so much at work the thought of typing when I get home is a lot like the thought of running a marathon first thing in the morning.

The ultrasound and my bloodwork from the nuchal test showed that I am having the pregnancy of a womyn that is 31/32 years old. Hah! That makes me biologically younger than Stew. A lot of my risks for genetic defects dropped dramatically. That was good news. And yes, I did almost cry when I got the news. Okay, maybe not almost, I did .... a little. And I still do (a little) when I think about it. Of course, there are still more tests I have to endure and still a long road ahead of me but with each passing week I grow a little less anxious.

I'm still not showing despite having gained 6.5 lbs and the kid only weighst about 1.75 ounces now (slightly more than a serving of cereal on Weight Watchers). In fact, a few people asked if I lost weight which makes me wonder exactly how chunky I was lookin' before. I can assure you something is going on because a lot fewer clothes are fitting these days and I think I need to invest in some newer, bigger bras. I am most comfortable in my pajamas but that's nothing new. I've always been Hugh Heffner-esque in that regard.