The cheesecake craving didn’t go so well

So as part of my “if I want it, I can have it” attitude towards surviving the last few days (i hope) of pregnancy, I attempted to treat myself to a piece of cheesecake before heading to the gym for prenatal swim (yes, I realize this sounds like a recipe for a stomach ache, but remember that at this stage, I’ll take any abdominal cramping I can get).  Tragically, I live in the south, so unlike dear old NJ, where it would be impossible to find a place that sold cappuccino and didn’t have a cheesecake in the display fridge, the cafes down here tend towards the cupcake variety of sweets.  “Oh well,” I thought, “there is that bakery right near the gym… they have to make something with cream cheese in it.”

And so I waddled my way to the bakery, happy to see that the open sign was on as I rounded the corner.  I popped in, smiled at the counter girl and began to inspect the display case when she chimed in “Uh, we’re closed.”  I stared back at her confused.  “We close at five.”  But she wasn’t doing anything, just standing there.  Why couldn’t she possibly just let me buy one measly pastry?  “Well, your open sign is still on” I barked and stormed out the door.   

And now I was pissed.  Completely and irrationally pissed.  I mean, they didn’t even have any cheesecake, so I don’t understand what I was so damn disappointed about, but I started doing that thing where you think of all the things you should have said despite the conversation already being over, and then I realized I was so frustrated I was going to cry.  Which made me start to cry.  At which point, I’m a mere 20 steps from the gym and now my face is a bright blaze of red and snot is running down my nose, so I hide out in the parking lot and call my husband. 

And when he picks up, I bawl “I don’t want to be pregnant anymore” and pretty much melt into a puddle of pathetic.  He happens to be at the downtown store so he comes running the half mile over to the gym to collect my sorry self, give me a hug and take me home (as the thought of having to say “I’m 39 weeks pregnant and no sign of labor in sight” at my prenatal swim class sounds like a recipe for another breakdown). 

Have I mentioned I have the most amazing husband ever?

He clicks into comfort mode and we spend the evening going out for crappy Italian food (’cause it’s my version of mac n’ cheese) and get a slice of cheesecake to go, which I devour while watching The Office from the comfort of our couch. 

And this morning, he went to Whole Foods and picked up a mini pumpkin cheesecake and two cannolis.  Absolutely amazing. 

So that puts me at two breakdowns so far this pregnancy.  One over painful and moderately frightening contractions, one over cheesecake.  And here I was thinking I was all immune to the whole hormonal thing.

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One Response to “The cheesecake craving didn’t go so well”

  1. Amy Says:

    Great post!

    I’m 11 weeks today and I had a breakdown during the Obama infomercial this week. First it was all these superhard-working families who had high hopes and were struggling to get by, then it was how awesome I think Obama would be for this country, then it was uncontrollable anger over the fact that some yahoo might try to do the unthinkable, and that I’m going to have to live with that fear every single day for (I hope) 8 years.

    Babydaddy pointed out this was my second emotional meltdown–the first was over a commercial, probably about how awesome dogs are.

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