mourning sickness.

Yes, that’s right. I’m in mourning. Mourning the loss of being able to eat anything that I like. Or anything that I don’t like, for that matter. Seems that Baby Number #2 (who may or may not be named Dexter, we’re not sure yet) is not a fan of me having anything in my belly besides himself (yes, I’ve already decided he’s a boy without any evidence to back me up.)

I have spent the last 3 weeks in horrible, full body heaves that have me complaining to complete strangers when I meet them. Even last week on the phone to a survey taker from Melbourne Uni, when asked how I was, I blandly and quickly blurted “I FEEL SICK,” information which I’m sure people who don’t know you don’t particularly give two shits about. Oddly enough, the only saving graces I have right now that doesn’t make me want to die when I ingest them are dairy foods. The last thing you’d want when you feel like hurling, right? It’s bizarre. I’m currently living on a diet of Magnum ice creams, Yogos and milkshakes. So it ain’t all bad. I just better prepare for the fact that when I’m due to give birth, I will likely weigh in at 100kg over what I weigh now (which is hideously embarassing, I weigh now at 9 weeks pregnant what I did at 9 MONTHS pregnant with Bea! I’d blame baby weight and being a mama, but I know too many skinny cute mamas who read this that will kick my arse for that statement.) In other “exciting” news, I got creamed by a fat kid on a push bike 2 weeks ago and had to run off to my local emergency room. Not a lot of entertainment or exciting news there, but my brother’s girlfriend came with me and we laughed a lot at stupid shit which made it more enjoyable, and I got to see the first pictures of my little sprog (which at this stage, looks not much different from a jellybean with a tail.) But it was nice, regardless.

And with that, I’m going to find some more Yogos before I puke on my keyboard.

Fat lady out.