Friday, August 29, 2008

I *am* the belly of the beast

The day I found out I was pregnant, I felt fine. The week after I found out I was pregnant, I felt fine. One day after that? I felt like I'd been hit by the world's most vindictive bus. Things I once liked -- a nice glass of water or the homemade pizza my husband makes, for example -- now turn my stomach.

Don't get me wrong. I don't actually vomit. I now know what it's like to want to vomit with every fiber of my being without actually spewing. I feel the churning goods in the pit of my stomach, taunting me with their gurglings, and yet my body is incapable of worshiping at the porcelain god.

Today, my good friend and the author of What the Fork? posted an up close picture of some superlative grilled cheese. All at once, I felt like hurling AND wanted to go straight to the kitchen to whip up my own melty sandwich. What the fork, indeed.

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