What a difference a trimester makes. Not only in my girth, but this almighty appetite. I now eat for the nation, and the indigestion I endure from overeating is a royal pain in the esophagus. At 22 weeks pregnant this willingness to consume large and varied quantities of food is unprecedented. My midsection expands like a helium balloon, and by jove its showing…
But I was not always this way inclined. First trimester pregnancy for me was marked with a distinct lack of hunger which manifest in weight loss. Turning up my nose to food, I felt no cravings or urges nor pangs to devour this bread stick or that pancake stack.
What a trimester does to my fondness for food…Now I am a bottomless pit to be filled with nourishing and tasty chow, all in the name of feeding the Seahorse of course! Present me with a banquet these days and I my eyes mist up. The buffet now represents all that is good and wonderful in the world. Mr. Whippy-sized portions of hummus weight down my plate; I could dive into my serving of Baba Ganoush so generous that it is. Eggplant dip has never held so much allure.
Avoiding what the health authorities warn all pregnant women against (do not eat for two), I now readily tuck into whatever takes my fancy, the brakes being put on when indigestion sets in: nature’s barrier to me self-gorging I guess! Second trimester: I am loving you.