I mentioned in my last post that my appetite has been acting like a pubescent boy. I eat. Thirty minutes later, I am ravenous again. I eat and eat and eat all day long. Surprisingly, my weight gain is not out of control (yet). Granted, I don't fit into 85% of my clothes already, but I'm pretty sure it's mostly baby belly. This is fine. It's a little problematic when I have to go out in public in something other than yoga pants, but most of the time I feel happy about my bump.
Until I start having a fit of pubescentesque emotional out-of-controlledness. I know there are two made up words in that sentence and I don't care. I've been suffering from three major kinds of breakdowns.
1. The Sentimental Melt I cried three times at church last Sunday. There was a cute baby with a proud dad. I saw the unborn baby of a pregnant friend move in her stomach. And I forget the reason for the last cry. I think someone came and gave me a hug. There's no stopping it. The tears flow without permission and occasionally without reason.
2. The Bouts of Sensitive Crazy I felt too weak to finish the workout with David, so I started crying, ate some cheese while sitting on the dark stairwell, and felt like the biggest failure in the world. I fell asleep on the couch, so I burst into angry tears and stomped up the stairs because I didn't just go to bed when I wanted to. I accidentally made more rice noodles than I needed for the Pad See Ew, so I suffered a pre-dinner emotional slump. The list goes on.
3. The Toddler Temper Tantrum Last Thursday, poor David had a root canal and I was his chauffeur. While I was taking him home, traffic was probably normal, but it felt like everyone was conspiring to cut me off and slam on their brakes. We stopped at Zips to get David (and Crusher) a milkshake. I decided to order a cheeseburger because I had to rush off to a work meeting for which I was about to be late. There were pickles on my burger. Pickles are gross. At the first red light, I opened up the burger to pick off the ickies. But the light turned green, and I spilled burger sauce all over trying to put it down and drive. So I yelled, "I just want to eat my cheeseburger!" There was an expletive in there. I'll let you fill in the blank for yourselves. And when we got home, I was still so angry I bumped the curb trying to park, burst into tears, and slammed the door. Hard. Poor drugged-up David was in the car with a swollen, painful face, and here I am acting like a 13-year old girl who just got her phone confiscated in the middle of her first text conversation with her crush.
Somebody give that man a medal!
hahaha...hilarious!
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