But the sad truth is, it does. When I read your blog, I want to vomit.
If it makes you feel any better, my blog makes me barf, too.
So does checking my email.
And reading. (Like computers, all the words make me feel seasick.)
And smelling any sort of Asian food, sitting up, drinking water, watching Rick Steves eat pickled herring in Belgium, brushing my hair, or taking a nap.
To be fair, I should also list things that do not (usually) make me chuck: lying in my bed without moving anything but my eyeballs and the index finger that changes channels on the TV remote, lemon sorbet, and vanilla mint chapstick.
In other news, thanks to our friends at Dr. Beck's office, who prescribed the zofran, I only fantasize about going into a Michael Jackson style induced coma like twice a day. And I almost never wish I were temporarily dead. Anymore.
And finally, remember when my pants fell off in Albertson's? And I pretended to be horrified by it? And then I went and got pants 4 sizes smaller?
Let's just say that if I decided to go to Albertson's today and purchase raw chicken (seems super-duper unlikely, since I am dry heaving a bit, just thinking about it), that those pants aren't going anywhere. They are uncomfortably snug. (And I'm talking about the big pants. Those little ones only fit for like two weeks).
At least there's that. (We won't talk about how I can be simultaneously barfing and gaining weight. I'm sure there is some kind of scientific explanation that won't make me feel any better.)
Happy 8.5 weeks to me.
If you ask me in October, I will tell you I am super excited, and that it was all worth it.
I do love me some babies.
Do you get sick? How sick? Please tell me about it. Cause it might be very wrong of me, but one thing that makes me feel better is hearing about other people who feel worse. But please don't tell me stuff like: Oh sure, once I was like, 6 months along, and I drove past this swamp that smelled like decomposing bodies, and it was totally touch and go there for like 30 seconds, but I ate some saltines, and I held it together!
Which reminds me: no one is allowed to say anything about eating saltines. It will make me very angry.