The advantages of being pregnant are twofold at the moment.
First advantage: I get to eat everything I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. Let me repeat that, in case you just glanced over that little piece of text: I get to eat EVERYTHING I want to eat, WHENEVER I want to eat it. I cannot remember ever having that privilige. Up to the age of 18, parents are the main obstacle between a stomach and its appetite. From 18 till 25, my financial limitations made me compromise. From then on, it was just common sense telling me that: yes, that cheesecake looked awfully good, but not good enough to risk embarassing these-favourite-jeans-suddenly-no-longer-fit-experiences.
Enter pregnancy!
Without hesitation I raid the supermarket throwing into my basket all kinds of no-go’s from yesteryear: potato chips, chocolate, ice cream. Not even a shred of guilt as I force my colleagues to prepare scrambled eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, mini pizza’s. I even decided to introduce myself at my third visit to the local cafetaria, which can be assured of its survival for the next four months. Foodwise, I’m in heaven right now. Luckily, Junior not only craves egg-whites, cheese and junkfood, but also lots of salads, cucumber, and juices.
Heidi Klum has raised the bar for all of us, you know.
Second advantage: people are very nice to pregnant women. This is a fact of life that sunk in rather late in my case. Probably because I was too busy being annoyed, over-emotional and sick for the first 14 weeks. Then it took me about six weeks to get used to it and feel free to take advantage. But I am proud to tell you guys: I am totally there!
Our Prime Minister Jan-Peter Balkenende – who should be busy packing in my opinion, but that should be in an entire different blog – often questions our Dutch moral values. Well, my advice to him is to be a pregant woman’s apprentice for about a week. If he were mine, he would have witnessed the many times people around me carry heavy things for me, the little gifts I get every week, the patience that I’m granted, the leftovers always going to my plate. It could be society’s way of preparing me for motherhood, where you’re automatically supposed to shift from 1st to 2nd place in your existence. If it is, it’s definitely working. I hope to spoil my kid as much as I’m being spoiled these days.
Speaking of which: I’m in the middle of a training session at work, when I feel this weird turning sensation in my belly. So there it is. Butterflies. Let the games begin.
