CPCs, Or a Lack Thereof

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Based on my limited experience, the number one question I suspect every pregnant woman in North America gets: “So have you had any Crazy Pregnancy Cravings?”

After seven months of this, you’d think I’d have a better answer other than a sheepish, “…no?”

Okay, true, I did catch myself at a Sprouts with a pint of ice cream and a jar of pickles in my checkout cart, but it wasn’t because I wanted to combine them. My intent was to use the pickles in a homemade Thousand Island dressing, and the ice cream…was for shoving in my piehole. Preferably while eating pie.

Though I had bouts of morning gagness in the first trimester, at no point did beef, pork, fowl, fish, broccoli, kimchi, cheese, milk, or chocolate smell/taste better or worse than any other thing. Alcohol, early on, did make me queasy if I smelled it. So much so that for a while on Fridays, when my office rec room turns into a den of boozy iniquity, I’d have to circumvent it to avoid triggering my gag reflex. But alcohol isn’t exactly something pregnant ladies should be consuming much of anyway.

The thing is…I’m a weird eater. I will try almost anything once, and my idea of comfort food (chicken livers, for instance) is probably not yours. Dinner tonight? Fish and kimchi. Which sounds like “zomg a CPC!!” unless you know me and know that if I’m staring into my fridge and trying to figure out how to perk up my pan-roasted fish, I’m going to reach for the kimchi. Because why not? It’s tart (like lemon, which we put on fish) and spicy and crunchy and packs a ton of flavor in a very small package. Could be good. Let’s try it.

(Sidenote: it was good. I’ll probably eat it again for lunch tomorrow. But then, I look for any excuse to put kimchi on things, and I make a batch once every few months. My coworkers from South Korea appreciate this.)

I’m not saying that I’m every woman, or that women don’t get cravings during pregnancy, or don’t develop food aversions. I think I’m trying to say: I wish I had something clever to answer this question with because everyone — from coworkers to my massage therapist — is set on asking it.

Instead, I’m sitting around my house, digesting kimchi and fish and carrots and coconut water, thinking about the chicken livers I ate last week, and looking forward to the pho I’ll have tomorrow. And if you think of a better answer for the inevitable “what are you craving???” question…please. I’m all ears.

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  1. Pingback: you can officially stop asking | Waiting for Zoe

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