I am fully aware that hormones are totally normal during pregnancy but OH MY GOD this is ridiculous. If I’m not laughing, I’m crying. I can burst into a big case of the giggles then turn bat shit crazy the next second. Even at some points I have had to stop myself and say “Oh my, I am acting like a crazy person, what the hell?”
Hubby has taken the unfortunate brunt of these hormonal tirades and missed all this with the Princess as we didn’t move in until I was 7 months pregnant. I’m really not trying to be crazy but I feel some days I have little to no control. The other night Hubby and I decided to watch a movie and “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” was on. It wasn’t his first choice and I’ll be the first to admit that it won’t be winning any Oscars, but it was good for some laughs…and tears. I have to say Elizabeth Bank’s character was my favourite. She’s super funny and when she goes to the baby show and gives her speech, I was dying of laughter. My favourite part;
“Gar Bear, I’m sorry, all I want to do is punch you in the face.” Priceless.
At this point I break into this awkward mix of laughing and crying at the same time. Hubby is just staring at me with complete shock and awe.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best movie to watch right now,” he says patting my hips lightly.
And I wish this was the only time I lost my mind. On the weekend I went to buy yarn so I could knit myself a scarf. Anyone who lives remotely close to the Greater Toronto Area is aware that scarves are more of a fashion accessory than an actual need but I wanted to knit a scarf. After I was done shopping, I decided that I wanted McDonald’s. I sat by myself, enjoying the delectable nastiness in all its greasy wonder when some so-called “health nut” approaches me to inform me of the complete and utter mistake I am making.
“Do you know what that is doing to your body and your unborn child at this very moment?”
My teeth are clenched, burger grease coating my lips and a dirty burger in my hand. My gawddddd, why today?
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No but you are eating garbage and I thought I should inform you.” Cue my sarcastic wit.
“Shit, you’re telling me this isn’t Jugo Juice and this isn’t a vegan burger with soylicious dressing?” I announce. It’s time to get to the point. “Listen, I am aware when I walked through those golden arches that what I would be ingesting is probably the worst thing for me next to nuclear waste or a bullet, but guess what? I don’t care. I don’t eat this everyday and I am not going to beat myself up about it. I’m hungry and wanted a burger. I know this burger right here has been sitting under a heating lamp and is likely made from a hormone injected, cloned cyclops mix of pork, poultry and beef. I also know that by drinking this coke, that it is turning my blood into jell-o. I made the conscious, informed adult decision to purchase it and stuff it in my mouth.”
“It’s going to kill you, you’re eating poison,” she tried to justify.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, everyone dies. I can guarantee that 100% of the people in this entire restaurant will die at some point or another. You will too. So continue to eat your goji berries and organic pomegranate juice and I’m just going to go back to eating this burger in peace and not bother complete strangers who cannot stand insufferable know it all’s. Okie dokie artichokie?”
Usually I would simply nod and turn away but I feel that if you walked into a McDonald’s for the sole purpose of informing its patrons of the horrendous nature of its food, you are really asking for it. Not to mention you decided to inform a hormonal pregnant woman of her food choices.