There is this story about Tim that I’ve heard from him…and his parents…about how he was as a baby. I mean, of course you’re bound to hear baby stories when you marry someone, but this one in particular is a little, um, different.
Allegedly (because when he was a baby I wasn’t even a thought on the fetal radar screen), once Tim was off the boob and eating solid foods, his parents would have to pull double duty to feed him because as soon as one spoon of mashed yams left his mouth he’d start screaming bloody murder until another one touched his lips.
So, basically, his mom would shovel food into his mouth while his dad would be filling another spoon to have at the ready and then his mom would load up her spoon while his dad fed him so on until Tim had his fill.
I used to scoff at that story all, “Seriously? I mean…really? Really?? You had THAT MUCH of an issue with getting food into your face fast enough? Riiiight. Because this isn’t exaggerated AT ALL and it’s totally feasible to be THAT HUNGRY to the point you’re beyond comfort, unless said comfort is a spoon full of food in your pie hole. Suuuuure.”
And I held steadfast to that belief. I wasn’t like that as a kid…never really had been. Yes, if I get overly hungry I will get irritated and become hangry (hungry + angry) or a headache would pop up, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t control. It wasn’t anything I had a freak out over.
I could deal with the hunger pangs. Annoying? Yes. Beyond solace? Never.
Then, funny thing happened.
I got pregnant.
And then I entered the middle of my second trimester.
Do you have any idea what happens during this time?
Well, heads up to you-who-have-never-been-preggo: the hunger beast enters your life.
People, I’ve run three marathons, hiked for hours with nothing but water, gone an entire day without eating and never once did I feel the kind of hunger that I do now.
It is insatiable.
It is upsetting.
It turns you into a deranged crazy person.
Example: Last night, Tim came home from work late and I was S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G having to wait on him, so he was trying to explain something to me about our grill and I was all, “Not now. Later. I’m hungry. I want to eat. NOW.”
(I still have no idea what he was trying to explain because I wasn’t listening. I was the hunger beast)
So, Tim ran upstairs, changed his clothes faster than Superman and came downstairs so we could eat.
Only after we finished dinner did he say to me, “I have to go to the bathroom now…had to go since I got home but I didn’t want to delay you eating any longer.”
Way to make the hunger beast feel guilty.
And the kicker? It’s not always just *any* food that will satisfy the hunger beast. Lately, the beast wants protein. It doesn’t matter what form or where it comes from or how it’s prepared.
JUST GIVE ME MY MEAT.
Confession: I’m starting to realize I will have to swallow my previously held firm belief regarding screaming bloody murder for food.
I will scream and cry and have an absolute meltdown if, for some reason, I can’t get what the hunger beast wants. It’s not a pretty scene, people. Not pretty at all.
What grown woman bursts into tears because someone didn’t listen to directions and accidentally put lettuce on their chicken burger?
I actually do try to reason with the hunger beast and say I’m really just thirsty. It’s not insatiable hunger – I’m dehydrated!
So, I drink
a few eleventy billion glasses of water. Which, by the way, is like a double edged sword because it means I will be peeing EVERY. FIVE. MINUTES.
But, still, the water thing is supposed to work, right? Isn’t that what all of the healthy eating guru’s always say? Drink water first because *sometimes* hunger is really *thirst* in disguise (I know. The dumbest thing ever but, whatever).
FYI hungry guru’s: That theory doesn’t work in pregnancy.
You’re not dehydrated.
You have been overtaken by the hunger beast.
And even if you are dehydrated?
The hunger beast just laughs while you guzzle the fluids. It’s like a big game of, “You think you can fool me…” because then, once you *think* you’re in the safe zone and have calmed it down, that’s when it happens.
This noise begins from your insides and rumbles through your entire torso that sounds like your own stomach is going to scream mutiny and crawl out from your belly button to eat your face off if you don’t feed it within the next five seconds.
When it gets that bad are the times when I’m ashamed to admit I made a sandwich out of Laughing Cow cheese and spicy mustard and ate it like a ravaged animal.