I love staying at nice hotels & indulging in the mammoth, buffet style breakfast they offer. I never understood those sensible guests who begin grazing on cereal, fruit & nuts as starters. Far too civilised. I sprint past the yogurt selection grabbing the biggest platter I can & load up with all the hot delights. Eggs? You betcha. Scrambled, fried, damn it, give me a poached one too. It will sit pretty next to my bacon, hash brown & 3 varieties of toast. I eye off danishes & pastries before I even begin chomping my first grilled tomato...."I'll be back for you...." I coo to the shiny, iced cinnamon scroll. Ooooh, the juices! How many thimble sized glasses can I carry back to the table? One of each! (This is making me hungry by the way) Coffee! Tea!........fruit & cereal last, if there's room. My favourite morsel is the tiny pork sausage. Barely 2 bites in each & oozing dodginess. Yum. Yum.
The only time I dislike tiny, plump pork sausages is when I glance down at my right foot & realise that my 5 toes look scarily similar to sausages & a cankle has replaced my usual slender heel.
Hello swelling. Aren't you pretty? I am slowly ticking off all the common pregnancy ailments & boy, 3rd trimester has some originality. Going to the toilet used to be a mild inconvenience. Now it is an activity I have named "Arse Roulette". Will I poo? Will I just fart? Constipation or Mount Vesuvius? And so frequently....I'm glad we installed that 3rd toilet. It's nice to have a change of scenery each time. As I sat on the toilet yesterday I wondered if I have a haemorrhoid? Probably three. I looked down at my sausage toes & began to ask Jesus for assistance....when out of the blue a foot cramp gripped my meaty trotter with such force I nearly cried. My toes splayed out in a rigid contortion, looking alot like Mork's Nan-Noo handshake. I knew I should reach down & stretch them...easier said than done when nearly 30 weeks pregnant & already ensconced in a game of Arse Roulette.
I knew Jesus hated me. Or at least had a very strange sense of humour.
My nausea has quietened. I have stopped taking my iron (as suggested by Dr J) and it seems to be working. I see the urologist next month regarding my kidneys. For now, I am better. Well, better in the Vomit Zone at least! And! I passed my 2 hour GB tolerance test! Maybe Jesus does dig me afterall?