If I may, I would like to being this post with a disclaimer:
You know how I know? Because a few weeks ago, I went to 7-Eleven and bought a bag of their kettle-cooked salt and pepper chips. Now, when I was pregnant with Bella, these chips were my jam. Every single day I would buy a Slurpee, a pack of Airheads Extreme Sours, and a bag of these chips on the way home from work. It was an hour commute; going without eating for an entire hour was not an option. Anyways, I would destroy those chips like it was my goddamn JOB (instead of babysitting whiny asshole librarians being my job. Which it was. Seriously, fuck that place.)
Anyways. Fast forward from 2009 to a few weeks ago. I’m standing in 7-Eleven and I saw those chips. I thought to myself, “Yay! I love these chips! I’ll eat them again and they will be delicious in my mouth!” But guess what you guys — they weren’t. They were so very NOT delicious in my mouth. Then it dawned on me: I only liked those chips because I was pregnant. Just like these other random foods I really, really like when I’m pregnant, then mentally divorce immediately after giving birth:
Canned pasta: When I was pregnant with Phaedra (and all the girls, really), I was severely nauseous for the first fourteen weeks. All day, every day. Fourteen weeks of pure misery. If I ate, it came right back up. If I didn’t eat, I felt even worse, and eventually threw up anyways. I desperately tried to find things I could actually eat. One day, at around eight weeks, I was wandering around the house, carefully avoiding the kitchen. I was hungry, didn’t know what I wanted to eat, but knew that poking around in the kitchen looking for something palatable was just going to remind me of food that I didn’t want to eat. At some point, I decided that clearly there was nothing for me to eat at the house, and that I needed to go out in search of food. I announced to Rob that I was going to the grocery store.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to go?”
“I don’t know what to tell you to buy, so no. It has to be me.”
So off I went to the grocery store. I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking. I was a newly pregnant, slightly green woman trying desperately not to vomit in the middle of the aisle. Everywhere I looked were food products that were highly offensive to my stomach and my brain (a.k.a. Team Asshole). Everything I looked at and considered eating made me want to barf.
Except this guy:
I took one look at that guy’s face and I knew he’d never try to make me barf. I checked with Team Asshole. They approved. I bought about ten cans of ravioli, and that’s basically all I dined on for the next six weeks. Big ups, processed food industry!
Mountain Dew: Normally, I am a dedicated Pepsi drinker. My family buys me Pepsi on gift-giving holidays (I’m not even kidding about that). However, the second that plus sign shows up on the pee stick, my body starts converting all of its Pepsi flavor receptors over to Mountain Dew. I once drove around hitting up all the fast-food places in town at 10:00 a.m. trying to find one that a) was actually open and b) served Mountain Dew. Do you know how many fast-food places serve Pepsi products anymore? Surprisingly few. You’re basically looking at KFC and Taco Bell, and as far as I know, neither one of these fine dining establishments have a breakfast program.
Lunchmeat/cheese/pickle rollup: This little culinary tour de force was a Surrey specialty. Basically, it’s just what it sounds like: a piece of turkey lunch meat (I KNOW LEPTOSPIROSIS FOOD POISONING OH MY GOD SHUT UUUUUUUPPPPP), a slice of American cheese, topped with a dill pickle — preferably sandwich-sliced, but I guess any kind would do as long as it’s dill and not one of those godawful sweet pickles. Roll it all up and go to town. It’s salty, meaty, cheesy, crunchy, and yummy. It’s a snack best enjoyed while standing directly in front of the refrigerator with the door still open, so you can immediately make another one. One day last summer I ate at least five of these in a row. I tried making one a few months ago, and I was really disappointed. I mean, it was okay, but I kind of lost interest halfway through and started wondering why the hell I didn’t just make myself an actual sandwich.
So that’s my list of food I’m never going to enjoy eating again. Ever. Not in this lifetime. But once in a while, just to be certain everything’s hunky-dory up in here, I make myself a turkey roll-up, or order a Mountain Dew with my Doritos Loco Taco. Just to make sure. And I’ll tell you what, ladies: disliking food never felt so good.