Monday, October 28, 2013

2nd Trimester Superfoods.

The other day, feeling a bit masochistic, I perused the internet for information on the second trimester.

I found a tidbit that I had not come across in my first pregnancy: during the second trimester, women are highly prone to yeast infections.

Wow universe, you are clearly a chauvinistic asshole if the the trauma 'round-the-corner for this general area isn't enough to keep you satisfied.

Anyway, this knowledge struck fear in my heart. I've only experienced the joy of this lovely female plight once before. It was the summer of 2005. I was living in Chicago and spending far too much time in a bathing suit on North Ave Beach and running dozens of miles along the lakefront in the humid mid-Western air. By the time I acted on my condition, dough rose when I walked by and antibiotics were needed for the cure.

Not ever wanting to relive this, my google search took a turn to "preventative measures". Given that real medications and pregnancy oftentimes don't mix, I found a slew of "natural" precautions. My opinion on non-Western medicine has not changed, but I was willing to learn about the roots, ginkoba, and berries that might save me from my plight of that uncomfortable summer so long ago.

Greek yogurt was the first thing that popped up. "Easy," I thought to myself, "I like yogurt, I'll increase my servings." I read on and, to my horror, found the word, "Insert" prefacing the word "yogurt" mid paragraph. My jaw dropped and I laughed so hard my shoulders shook realizing this article does not suggest the yogurt enter through one's mouth.

My Vanilla Oikos is not going up my crotch. I don't want to be the person remembered at the hospital for delivering a yogurt-glazed loaf of bread.

The next preventative measure listed was garlic and I knew, before I read, where the article would like it shoved. With a straight-face, it suggested peeling a clove or two and delicately jamming it up the lady parts. Worried about losing the garlic in your uterus? Don't be! The website said it will eventually fall out.

This would be one way to make a cervix check more uncomfortable.

"Well, you're 2.5 centimeters dilated and these two bulbs of marinated garlic in my hand indicate your child will be perfectly seasoned."

Instead of following this advice, I will take my chances that pregnancy sticks to affecting my shape, weight, hair, nails, teeth, ankles, back, and feet and lets the body part that got us here rest in peace. It doesn't deserve the yogurt.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

The People You Should Lose Touch With.

Somewhere, in the unwritten rulebook of life, it is written that there are some people you should lose touch with as the journey unfolds. If you don't, the nostalgia surrounding a younger era that is permanently instagrammed in your mind's eye is replaced with a reality you'd rather encounter in rush hour traffic or when trying to reach the numbers on the ATM and it becomes embarrassingly obvious that you will either have to roll your window down and hang out it or open your car door and stand next to the machine to reach your $60.

I've discovered, this unwritten rule transfers from real life to fake social media life. I have not sent or received a friend request from with the  little boy who was super cute in 2nd grade and is now a manager at Staples. I'm not friends with my high school boyfriend, although I was for a few months until I bashed Delta  repeatedly, and very humorously I might add, without realizing Delta was his employer. He took it as a cue to bash my employer (not sure how he knew where I worked, that was a bit creepy), who sells incredibly tasty fast food that everyone enjoys as opposed to making business travelers mad, so I unfriended. It was an important lesson about who your real social media friends are.

The other night my phone buzzed with a friend request. "Who is this?" I said to myself. Stumped, I asked my self again, "Who is this person??" Assuming it was someone random whose news feed I'd shown up in and unsure as to why this random person wouldn't use LinkedIn instead, I set my phone down.

And then I remembered.

I gasped. I cringed. I smiled. I cringed again.

He had long curly hair, which was much longer than my boy-short locks that I thought were awesome but now make me question my taste in  general. He was an actor. I think he knew how to surf. He had an accent. He was incredibly cute and I dated him during a semester abroad in Australia.

However, he was my "one-off." In college I told my friends that my future husband was somewhere in the Northeast at a similar college and we'd meet in Boston. NAILED it. I didn't date ACTORS or people with LONG HAIR when I was stateside!

But now, here he is, his locks still flowing friending me from Park City. We were supposed to lose touch so I could keep him as the cute Australian actor I dated and he could keep me as the American with short hair he dated at uni. Every once in awhile he'll pop into my conscious mind from the recesses of my college memories where he is stored next to Brittney Spears and Ruthie from The Real World and I smile.

I don't however, care to know where he is currently backpacking or what he is having for breakfast. He was only real when I was 20. Brittney's comeback was depressing. I think his would be, too.