The Miracle Diet

Wanna lose some weight? I've got a great diet you've gotta try. Its called the "I'm-Preggo-And-The-Site-Of-Food-Makes-Me-Want-To-Yak" diet. Seriously, give it a whirl!

Hardly anything looks appetizing at all anymore. Your stomach growls angrily at you for not feeding it (hopefully you don't sit too near your co-workers like I do. Try to explain the sounds of a rabid rottweiler coming from your abdomen…). But nothing you could possibly put into your mouth will soothe the ferocious beast that was once known as your stomach. You search the refrigerator for the hundredth time, hoping you might find some heavenly piece of food that will magically disarm your gag reflex. But no. There is no such food.

So you settle for last night's leftover spaghetti. You tell yourself you LOVE spaghetti, that you have always cherished it. You seduce that spaghetti like you want to take its virginity. But once that first bite hits your taste buds, forget it. All I can say is, make sure you are standing within sight of the trashcan, sink or toilet.

I haven't had the experience of "reproducing" a half-digested meal into the nearest toilet yet. But many, MANY times I feel like I am about to. My own personal nausea has decided it isn't enough to afflict me during the 16 hours that I am awake. No, it now crowds my bed at night (and has destroyed my sex life). Just me, Brian, and my pet nausea.

Its so easy to forget the reason why I'm sick. I'm so focused on being sick, that I frequently forget that this time it isn't just a 24-hour bug. Its actually a sign that my little bean is in there, swimming around, wagging his little lizard-like tail, growing into a little human being. Really that thought is the only thing that can soothe my raging nausea. And the nausea doesn't really go away, but I can embrace it. Because I know that it is just one of my body's own orange construction signs that says: "Miracle At Work."