So, I’m really not going to launch into a diatribe every day about being pregnant. Swearsies.
My experience has been typical thus far, and I trust you people are smart enough to pick up a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting if you have any interest whatsoever in knowing what my body is doing (SPOILER: burping and farting) or what type of fruit my fetus resembles.
Seriously, if you want to know how I’m feeling today? Read Chapter Nine.
But I do want to share with you this one thing that I think is just mean and cruel and totally unfair: I hate coffee now.
The taste, the smell. The very thought of coffee makes me want to do voms all over Starbucks.
Initially, everything was okay. TJs actually has a pretty good decaf French roast that is almost like the real thing.
But somewhere around week 7 the idea of coffee became revolting to me. I started having this nasty metallic taste in my mouth all the time like I was sucking on pennies (Chapter Six), and I found coffee just exacerbated that. Now it’s escalated into one of those irrational aversions to the point that when I look at the coffee maker in the kitchen, my stomach gurgles.
Seriously. It was actually pretty easy to give up the booze. But I thought coffee and I could remain casual friends. And it’s breaking my heart.
With that in mind, your Friday haiku:
Dear coffee: What gives?
Thought we had something special.
Now you’re dead to me.
What’s in your coffee this morning? Bonus points if it’s something alcoholic.
P.S. Cindylu from Loteria Chicana has taken up the whole haiku thing (actually she started doing it before I did), and she writes some really good stuff (a/k/a not the tripe you’ll find over here). Check her out.
P.P.S. STL Hops is hosting a haiku contest for a bottle of Dark Lord. Don’t think for a minute my “condition” precludes me from entering. It just means I will be forced to age that puppy until some time in 2012.