“I like this new side of you,” commented a friend I bumped into at the grocery store. It was 9:30 in the morning and I was shoving yet another candy bar into my face.
What is happening? It seems I can’t get enough grease and sugar into my diet! Logically, I’m disgusted with myself. But viscerally, I’m in heaven. Currently, I’m on a quest to see who, in our little town, makes the best onion rings. Somebody emailed me this morning with another tip. I’ll let you know who wins.
You see, this is what I’m talking about! When was the last time I ate onion rings?! Actually, I can tell you. It was the day before I discovered I was pregnant with Luke. I had begged Paul to take me to Sonic and order the largest basket of onion rings possible.
One of my good friends in the neighborhood has her PhD in Nutrition from UC Berkely. After explaining my inexplicable numerous sharp turns into fast food drive-ins, she sweetly offered, “Well, it takes a lot of fat and cholesterol to build a baby’s brain. Obviously, your usual health conscience fare needed a little something extra.” She was being very generous with me. But what about all the Three Musketeer’s bars I keep stashed in my glove compartment? What about the rich mashed potatoes and stuffing I can’t get enough of, and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet?
I’m off artificial sweeteners now too, so I’m chugging full sugared soda every time I feel the slightest pang of nausea. It’s all so uncharacteristic my husband and kids think they are living in Bizzaro World.
“What’s with all the contraband treats, hon? What happened to your ‘No Cold Cereal’ policy? What happened to your white flour embargo?”
And then his real concern:
“Is all this fitting into the budget??”
I’ll admit, my onion ring obsession does leave me feeling very poor at the end of the week. The kids all need new winter boots, and unless these insatiable cravings abate soon, their cold toes will have to force my hand.
I really don’t want to have to make my own onion rings at home.