I tend to be a person of total obsession focused devotion. I will go through periods of LOVING something to death like books, television shows, research subjects, and the occasional person.
Food is no exception.
When I am pregnant, well…let’s just say it can get worse.
Right now if my current obsessions do not die down, this kid will be born looking like Suzanne Whang from House Hunters or a crepe.
For those who have never viewed the awesomeness that is House Hunters, I’ll give you the lowdown.
Suzanne Whang narrates as people look for a house to buy.
I love Suzanne Whang. She always looks totally pulled together and serene and whenever they film her she is in some perfect, beautiful, foliage-laden place that looks like it is right out of a home and garden magazine.
The show is always VERY consistent: They narrow it down to three house choices and then after much hemming and hawing and guessing on the part of the viewer, they tell you which house was selected. Then they usually follow up with the couple between one month and a year to see how their house turned out and how they like it.
They always prepare food in their previous or new kitchen and there is always a party at the end. (The really sad ones are where they have to invite their realtor over because the obviously haven’t made a lot of friends in the new location.)
Also, at some point the couple WILL be filmed holding a coffee mug while talking to the camera. (Which is a little weird and totally staged looking.)
They even have an international version.
I freaking LOVE this show.
Jonathan?
Not so much.
Whenever I have control of the remote and I turn it to HGTV, there is an inevitable exasperated sigh and conversation with my House Hunters-hating spouse.
“Oh, look! Shock! It’s ANOTHER episode of House Hunters! Does HGTV have any other shows that they produce?”
“Of course, but people love this show so they produce lots of it. Think of it this way, House Hunters is like the Law & Order of HGTV.”
“Except shittier and way more boring. Seriously, I think that someone records the damn thing on their iphone and then edits it with Windows movie maker on their PC.”
So, let’s just say that Jon is NOT a fan and leave it at that.
He is a little more tolerant of my crepe fetish.
Usually, my crepe making occurs in the dead of night. Like, 3 am. It’s a simple process and easy peasy.
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1 cup flour
2 Tbsp. melted butter
2 Tbsp. sugar
Whisk in a bowl, melt butter in a non-stick pan pour a small circle of batter and either spread with a spoon or rotate circularly by hand (how I do it) until the crepe is smooth, thin and round. Flip and remove from pan. Butter and sprinkle with powdered sugar, roll up and nom, nom, nom. (Sometimes I add jam or lemon juice but really I am a fan of just the sugar.)
Recently, I discovered the awesomeness that is adding Nutella, bananas and strawberries to the crepes.
OMG.
NIRVANA.
The other day, I decided to make crepes for dinner. Usually, since I make them in the middle of the night, I hog all of them by myself, but I wanted to share with my family. So, I headed to Albertsons to buy supplies.
There weren’t any carts available and I thought, “No biggie. I just need strawberries, Nutella and bananas. I can carry that.”
And I COULD have. Except that I remembered we needed bread. And milk. And eggs. And a box of Ding Dongs. (Ok, we didn’t really NEED Ding Dongs, but I usually go to the store with Jon and he has a way of putting things back on the shelf he feels aren’t good for me to eat. And yes, it is annoying as hell.)
So, there I was, in Albertsons with my arms piled high with precariously balanced items in my arms as I waddled my way to the check out counter, when it started to happen:
My maternity pants started falling down.
Shit.
I have no butt. It’s flat as a pancake and so my pants often have difficulty staying up. Adding a globe-like stomach only makes it worse. I was wearing a new pair of maternity pants and they are a little big on me. Between my arms being too full to hitch them back up, being too roomy and having a behind that could pass for the Bonneville Salt Flats, I was doomed in this scenario.
I tried to just walk it off but they kept falling. So, I stopped and tried to shift but it was getting worse every time I moved until the band of my pants WAS DOWN AROUND MY UPPER THIGHS, PEOPLE.
Let me restate the image in case you missed it:
I WAS STANDING WITH MY ARMS PILED WITH GROCERIES FLASHING MY HOT PINK MATERITY PANTY CLAD ASS IN THE CEREAL AISLE AT ALBERTSONS.
Luckily, no one else was around.
There was NOWHERE to put my items without dropping them on the floor and I was totally scared the eggs or milk would fall and break open and strawberries would roll everywhere. So, I slowly scooted backward to the corner of a shelf and leaned against it and tried to see if rubbing up against it would scoot my pants back up.
Picture a big, globe-like bear scratching his back against a tree.
It seemed to be helping slightly, so I kept it up.
Until an older lady rounded the corner and looked at me.
I’m sure it made her day to see a pregnant woman laden down with groceries with her pants half down and looking like she was anal raping the shelving unit where she shops for groceries.
“Do you need some help, dear?”
It was humiliating but I let her take my eggs and milk and strawberries so that I could set everything else down and pull up my pants. She assured me she had been pregnant and understood and I mumbled a sincere thank you, gathered my groceries and waddled with all my might to the checkout stand.
It was really one of the more embarrassing moments of my life.
When I got home, I curled up in bed and flipped on the TV.
YAY! HOUSE HUNTERS!
It automatically cheered me up.
Except reflecting on it still makes me totally blush and cringe. I bet that Suzanne Whang would probably NEVER be caught in hot pink maternity panties with her pants down in the cereal aisle of Albertsons.
Dammit.
I need a crepe…
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