It’s the Baby’s Fault!

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The baby wants ice cream.

Am I the only one who has caught herself providing ridiculous excuses for gluttony, like “the baby wanted a cinnamon roll,” lately? My perfectly unreasonable lies have accumulated, too. Every day, there’s a new whopper: “The baby wants chocolate cupcakes,” or “The baby wants peanut butter cookies with ice cream.” Fortunately for my thighs, I have a conscience that doesn’t let this kind of tale-telling go unchecked. But it doesn’t help that others around me chime in with the devil on my shoulder as they egg me on: “Oh, it’s okay. You’re pregnant. Enjoy it!” “No, no, no!” the good angel warns. “You set a weight gain goal for this one, and you can stick to it.” I politely remind my dear cherub that I’ve already met that goal, and I’m not even five months into the game. No bueno.

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The baby wants red velvet cake.

It’s not that I eat poorly because I don’t…most of the time. I’m actually more conscientious with this one than I was with the others. (Gosh! With the first one, I really took the “eating for two” thing literally.) It’s just that I have these cravings for sweets once a day, sweets that my buns can’t afford. Since I’m 35, not twenty-something, that sugar sticks to me like I’m going into hibernation. Then I tell myself hair-brained myths (the seraphim talking again), like “but it’s healthy junk from Whole Foods!” Shyeah, like that makes any bit of difference.

Sidebar: Have you had one of those frosty, coated cinnamon rolls from Whole Foods? Oh, you haven’t given your tastebuds anything to brag about if you haven’t. (Don’t listen to the troll in the red suit. He steers me wrong every time.)

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The baby wants fro-yo.

So, today, the “baby” was craving fro-yo. Because babies do that sort of thing, y’know. o_O

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