21 weeks down, feeling loads better and finally back on track. I’ve returned to eating normally and enjoying life again. “Whoop whoop”. However, perhaps in some kind of unconscious effort to make up for lost time, I think I may have jumped back on the food bandwagon a little too overzealous!
Last week I celebrated my return to health by taking great joy in being able to pleasurably satisfy a guilty food craving. I treated myself to a big gourmet burger and fries loaded with cheese, bacon and gravy. Afterwards I felt thoroughly content and deserving of such a splurge. Seems innocent enough right? Except for a few nights ago whilst out with my girlfriends, we tucked into an immense Italian feast. I stuffed my face with bread, cheese, pizza, pasta, polishing it all off with 2 desserts. By the time I had finished I was so full I could hardly breathe. It was then my girlfriends commented on my new green tinge and asked, “Are you okay?”. Needless to say I had to be rolled out of the restaurant and into a taxi. Feeling completely gross I spent the ride home contemplating ‘to spew, or not to spew?’. By the time I had arrived home, I was in a world hurt. My stomach was so huge and uncomfortable that I felt in danger of it exploding, leaving the baby exposed, unimpressed and looking back up at me in pure disgust. I spent the rest of the night jacked up on antacids, in sleepless agony asking myself “Wwwhhhyyyyy?!?!”.