As I type this, I am munching on a cookie the size of Singapore. Yea, I agree Singapore is a smallish country and all, but it is infinitely larger than your average-sized cookie. So there, this giant man-made cookie which is fast disappearing in a series of huge bites and munches…this one signals my “Gluttonous Glory” period in the pregnancy.
And the hypocrite that I am, I am actually Googling for calorie count in Starbucks Monster Chocolate Chunk Cookie as I eat it leaving crumbs between the keys of the keyboard. Which is pretty much like buying a bouquet of flowers for your wife, as you wait for your mistress to meet you. Loser!
Google being the smart-ass that it is (About 59,200 results in 0.18 seconds …brag, brag, brag) has given me the shocking results of my binge. They are some self-depreciating numbers that I do not care to reveal here. Hopefully when they say 1 serving they mean about 100 cookies, instead of 1 cookie. So I can justify why I ate enough calories for a week in 5 minutes flat.
What does 1 serving mean anyway? Pfffftt…Very relative term, my friend. Do you know the average Mallu’s 1 serving of rice is equivalent to 5 servings of rice for the average North-Indian? Servings indeed!
Anyways, contrary to popular beliefs among my not-yet-Mom friends, pregnancy is NOT the time to eat what you want, especially not in portions you want. Even though we all constantly feed this big blatant lie to all mums-to-be.
Eat, eat, it’s good for you and the baby……blah blah.
Which in plain old girl language translates to:
“Buahahaha…eat you silly woman…you can say goodbye to that skinny jeans forever. And watch while I sit back and do my Mogambo laugh as your butt gets bigger. Ha!”
In my defense, ‘A ‘got me the cookie after lunch…so I was completely unprepared for this temptation. But I’ll pay for it soon. On the train ride back home, he’s going to give me The Look.
The Look is not a “You are so gorgeous, I can’t stop looking at you” look. It’s more of a grimace like when you meet your friend’s screaming child for the first time. And you mumble…Ohhh he’s such a nice smart boy…Definitely a keeper, you keep him!
So ‘A’ will grimace at me and say something like “Did your butt get bigger?”
Question / Declaration/ Lowlight of the day.
He’s quick to make amends though, my painfully frank husband. Especially when he sees the scowl on my face.
“Ummm …no what I meant is… (stammer, stutter) Actually (looks for fire escape)…It’s probably just the dress “
The Dress. The dress remains his favourite excuse.
Me : “Who is thinner? Me or her?”
A : “It’s usually you…(pause)…But today with that dress on you, she looks thinner.”
Me “Who’s got thinner ankles (can replace with any body part)? Me or random lady on the road walking in front of us?”
A : “With this dress on you…hmmm…” (Hint, get the point woman and stop asking questions!)
One of my favourite scenarios. Dressing up for some nice occasion – fancy restaurant, dim lighting, sophisticated company and too many spoons and forks to eat with. You get the picture. So obviously, I give it a shot at trying to dress nicely and be glammed up. We leave home, me feeling good about myself. We enter the apartment lift together, the very picture of domestic bliss.
As the lift begins its descent, ‘A’ gives me The Look. Ryan my poor darling baby never ceases to be amazed, astonished and astounded with the joys of the LED display numbering on the lift as it passes each floor, so we leave him out of this domestic squabble.
A: “Something’s not right about you today.”
Me: “What, what (panic)…Too much powder? Oh no! Hair frizzing up? Gasp! One eyebrow thicker than the other? WHAT?”
A: “No no …just that this dress makes you look fat. You should have worn the blue one no?”
Oh! You unworthy man, you did not observe this as you watched Pirates of the (goddamn) Caribbean for the nth time sprawled on the couch while your wife whizzed around you, hollering for safety pins, moisturiser, mascara brush? And you did not think to say this then??!!!
Ok I am well aware I am rambling away. Sorry today I was in a very diary-writing mode.
But seriously any of you girls face this? Not the petite ones…off with your heads you lot! 🙂
The rest of the normal sized women? Anyone?
Author’s Note: Oh and again, I have to shamelessly draw attention to my Facebook page. Here it is.
The page has seen better days no doubt, so be a darlin’ and go click ‘Like’. You click Like on all random pages and get involuntarily tagged in the oddest pics, so this has gotta be better. Come on fellas, be a sport.