Those words were uttered by Husb on Sunday evening when I sat on the sofa close to tears and declared
"I'm so BORED of eating!".
Anyone who knows me that I do not get bored of eating. Ever.
The problem is, I got smug. I got too smug regarding the lack of nausea and sickness during my pregnancy so far. You may have gathered from previous posts that it did start but it wasn't so bad. I'll be honest, (and forgive me for too much information) but I haven't actually been sick, I just feel it. A lot.
Basically, I have deduced that if I don't eat approximately every three hours, then I feel so awful that I think I might die.
On Sunday we had a ridiculously enormous dinner with my family to celebrate 3 birthdays. I knew when we got home around 7pm that I would not need to eat until breakfast. That is, until it got to around 9.30pm and the nausea kicked in again. I could not get off the sofa to even go to bed without having to clamp a hand over my mouth just in case. It was at this point I made my declaration.
The same thing happened yesterday lunchtime. I knew I was sailing close to my 3 hour deadline but decided to risk going out to get a sandwich in M&S. Big Mistake. I had to dash out, again with hand clamped over my mouth and back into the office. (it's fine to throw up in the office but not in Kensington M&S. It's just not done.)
Whilst my colleagues have seemingly not noticed my burgeoning, ever-expanding chest, they must have noticed that I'm eating constantly at my desk. They must have noticed the 7lbs that have already clung to my tummy and bum. For someone who is always on a diet, it must look odd.
I cannot wait til next week when, hopefully, I can come clean. Scan on Saturday. Fingers crossed....
- A first time mum at 39, trying not to let my son kill me off too soon. Busy juggling a new family, a new house and a tricky recording schedule I figured blogging would be less expensive than therapy and less embarrassing than shouting at rude and stupid people in the street/on trains/at the supermarket.