Hunger Strike
November 13th, 2008
Much of my evening was spent cleaning our couches in final moving preparations and one of the saddest moments of this pregnancy was the deceptively difficult act of putting the slipcovers back on the cushions. I was heaving and sweating and grunting as though I were on mile twenty three of a marathon, and when I finished, I drank an entire quart of water, and no, that’s not an exaggeration. I sucked down THE WHOLE QUART in a matter of three minutes.
I’ve mentioned it before, but aside from the nausea (back in full swing thanks to the ocean I just inhaled), becoming easily fatigued is one of the most frustrating aspects of pregnancy. There really is no reason I should be so physically spent after vacuuming the couch and washing a set of slipcovers, but there it is. I’m now lying with my feet up wondering if I’ll regret going to bed at 8 p.m., because the last time I did that, I woke up at 3 a.m. all perky and bushy-tailed and embarked on a cleaning escapade in the downstairs bathroom that resulted in a four-hour nap and a near-missed deadline.
Old episodes of Project Runway (season 3, if you care) droned in the background during Couch Capers, and once again, I was struck by my biggest pet peeve of fashion shows: the utter lack of foundation garments. Now, I realize I’m not the most fashion-forward among us (in fact, right now I’m wearing a maternity shirt that includes the dreaded elements of gathered seams at the shoulders, a tie in the back and oh my God, is that GLITTER THREAD?) (Manufacturer rhymes with Smotherhood Smaternity, obvs), but I maintain that just because you’re spectacularly thin and small-chested does not mean that I want to see your wee raisin boobs flapping around under that fluttery chiffon garment. I don’t like it one bit, but this could merely be bald jealousy stemming from the fact that my own boobs are no longer available for solo flights.
Separately, my friend Nora recently pointed out two food-related issues, one positive, one negative, that I can’t get out of my head today. First, if you were ever interested in our Pennsylvania Dutch culinary heritage (one word: LARD), behold, for Nora has shared a recipe for shoo-fly pie, which is among the more bizarrely delicious foods in this world. It’s basically molasses and flour, but it’s super-weird and super-delicious, and as far as Pennsylvania Dutch food is concerned, it’s rather tame. I mean, consider that these are people who brought you scrapple, pig bellies stuffed with sausage (hog maw!), and fastnacht/fauschnauts.
I told you, Pennsylvania has its good points, and they usually involve pork scraps. I’d also like to add that my mother once brought Adam to the Goschenhoppen Folk Festival, where he nearly died. In addition to various food products (scrapple! Hog maw!), there was also the grand tradition of blowing up a pig’s bladder and batting it around like a balloon (yes, just like in Little House). I don’t think I’m overstating when I say that he nearly fainted when I told him truthfully what that pink thing was floating among the crowd of children. He was born and raised in Boston, where such sights were not commonly seen, I suppose.
Anyway, the other thing she mentioned, and the subject of recurring waves of nausea, reminded me that I CANNOT handle food products mixing with other food products when they aren’t meant to be. She, for example, found a bit of melon in her salad, and I AM CERTAIN that if I found such a thing that I would faint on the spot. I … I can’t handle it. If I’m at a restaurant, say, and I order the penne pasta and there’s an elbow macaroni in there or, God forbid, the dreaded strand of spaghetti, I am DONE. DONE. Spy a wayward beet in the cottage cheese on the salad bar? FORGET IT. A green pea in a chick pea salad? OH HELL NO.
Oh my God, I need smelling salts. All day — ALL DAY — I’ve been thinking about that stray bit of melon, which brought on uncontrollable thoughts of the grossest intermingled foods I’ve ever envisioned. It’s like an unstoppable trainwreck, each combination tumbling over the other and I may eat nothing but prepackaged Little Debbie oatmeal creme pies for the rest of my pregnancy if I can’t figure out a way to stop this madness. (AMBROSIA DIRECTLY FROM THE PREGNANCY GODDESSES)
And hey, I’m finally off to shower, then bed. I am embarrassingly sore after the couch, and I won’t even talk about how easily winded I am. This typing thing right here? It’s causing heavy breathing. Okay, fine, I exaggerate a bit, BUT STILL.
Happy Friday/weekend!
*Temple of the Dog. Because I’m remembering the 1990s — at least the early ones, before we all got Friends haircuts and let our eyebrows grow too long.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
14 Comments Add your own
1. winterwheat | November 13th, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Am I the first? AM I THE FIRST?
Been lurking for a few months and figured I’d come out of hiding once again and spray my verbal chaff all over your comments section.
I’m so excited to see how this pregnancy progresses! You’re a champ for rassling with the couch, but geez, honey, take a rest when needed. You’ll be rassling other things soon enough.
I know I had shoo-fly pie as a kid (my father was descended from Pennsylvania Dutch folk and my grandparents lived in Pennsylvania), but I can barely remember it. Is it like treacle tart? (Basically replace the molasses with Lyle’s Golden Syrup.) For some reason it reminds me of that crazy “Mock Apple Pie” made with nothing but sugar, Ritz Crackers, and lemon juice. Man, somebody had to be desperate to create that. Apples aren’t caviar.
xoxoxo
kris
2. mj | November 14th, 2008 at 4:09 am
I read this right after metalia’s latest “ask a jew” post. let me say it’s funny when juxtaposed with an explanation of keeping kosher.
3. erica | November 14th, 2008 at 5:54 am
Dude, seriously?
“There really is no reason I should be so physically spent after vacuuming the couch and washing a set of slipcovers…”
Um, you are GROWING A HUMAN BEING. THERE ARE SEVERAL REASONS TO BE TIRED. GOOD REASONS! The above activities would make *me* tired and I am not pregnant, only obese.
I hated feeling like I was defeated every time I tried to do something in my pregnant state that I used to be able to do with ease. But if/when I do it again, I’m just going to roll with it and relax. Your body is doing a lot of work, even if it doesn’t seem like it from the outside. I know it’s aggravating sometimes to get tuckered out so easily, but try to enjoy having time (and a host of good reasons) to take it easy.
4. La Petite Chic | November 14th, 2008 at 7:05 am
Oh, scrapple! Every guy I ever dated before I married my PA born husband always looked at me in disgust when I ordered scrapple at a diner. I’m a Maryland girl and we eat it there too. And my grandma still eats pickled pigs feet and chicken gizzards. Now those, I can’t handle!
5. Sadie | November 14th, 2008 at 7:30 am
I have heard of shoo-fly pie but I thought it was just some sort of country turn-of-phrase I didn’t understand. So it’s a real thing, hunh!?
What’s funny is, I am normally with you regarding wayward food bits in restaurants that should not be in my dish (a pea in a dish that has no peas, or a dollop of sour cream with a bit of guacamole on it which tells me the preparer used the same spoon for both condiments, gah!). But when I find a wrong kind of noodle in a pasta dish, I kind of like it. It’s like a weird little bonus to find a piece of cavatappi in my ziti or whatever…I mean, it’s STILL PASTA, it’s not like a pinto bean in your lobster bisque or something.
6. Penny | November 14th, 2008 at 9:39 am
Heh. My ambrosia seems to be Oreo Cakesters. Just don’t try them, you may never look back, and oh the amount of fat they contain. Yikes.
I have no nausea any more and still your food mixes churn my stomach. Eww.
7. TwoBusy | November 14th, 2008 at 10:00 am
(recoiling w/horror right alongside Adam at the thought of floating pig part playthings…)
8. H | November 14th, 2008 at 10:36 am
For me, the mingling of unrelated food items makes me suspicious of the restaurant, unless it occurs at a salad bar or something similar because then it is completely clear how it happened. I fear the reuse of food, like the dollop of guacamole that a patron leaves on a plate that may or may not be scooped up and put on MY plate. Surely, most places would never allow this, but that’s the first thought that crosses my mind if I see suspicious remnants of anything other than exactly what I ordered.
Enjoy your weekend – I hope it is restful.
9. Kristin H | November 14th, 2008 at 11:09 am
I have never had a food-mixing aversion. I may, however, have an aversion to batting around inflated pig parts. This casts a whole new light on Pennsylvania.
10. Swistle | November 14th, 2008 at 12:06 pm
During one of my pregnancies, I think the twins one, I ate an ENTIRE BOX of those oatmeal cream Little Debbie things. In, like, a single day. Along with my regular meals.
11. ZestyJenny | November 14th, 2008 at 12:07 pm
“…does not mean that I want to see your wee raisin boobs flapping around under that fluttery chiffon garment.”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAA!
Jonna! You are so freaking hilarious. Thanks for the good laugh.
Oh, and also? I have started feeling much like you describe with the couch cushions after putting on my shoes. Sad.
12. the ex | November 14th, 2008 at 1:04 pm
Holy shit, Jonna. Will you marry me? Other than that you’re already married and impregnanted and I’m a woman and that’s illegal in my state.
Oh.
ANYWAY. I have the same issues about food. I eat off those lunchroom trays that divide the dishes – when I’m at home. When I’m out at a restaurant? I hope for the best.
13. Kristabella | November 15th, 2008 at 4:33 pm
I don’t get as weird as you do with things that shouldn’t mix, but I have issues with them. Fruit should not be in salad, unless that fruit is a tomato. Those strawberry salad and the salads with apples in it? WRONG. Yes, I like lettuce and I like apples, but THEY DO NOT GO TOGETHER. The pasta thing doesn’t bother me either. Because pasta is good.
It also doesn’t bother me when there is a stray french fry in my tater tots, like there was today in my lunch. Because fried = good.
14. hollister | March 28th, 2012 at 7:54 am
xiang hu jian dou
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