Grouchy Beans

Disclaimer:  Dearest reader, please don't misunderstand my intentions in this post.  I'm not about to make this blog all about pregnancy and eventually a baby that, for the most part, you could care less about.  However, as Anouchka Talks is a rather egocentric blog, I am going to continue to talk about my life.  Right now I'm getting fat...

...and I want to gripe about it.

oOo

KNOCKED UP MOOD COMPLAINTS

It's no secret:  Sometimes pregnant women get emotional.  This, of course, is not limited solely to crying inappropriately over Taco Bell commercials, but is also evident in mood swings and overall crabbyness.

I am not a crier.  I am a grouch.

I don't particularly subscribe to the school of thought that pregnant women should get to treat other people like dirt because we feel fat and/or icky.  Furthermore, I don't believe that all mood swings are a result of hormone changes.  Whatever happened to just plain having a bad day?  Still, suddenly losing sight of your waist during swimsuit season doesn't leave a girl giddy.

KNOCKED UP PHYSICAL COMPLAINTS

While Hulk and I both appear to be doing well (we heard the heartbeat for the first time last month!), this pregnancy has brought upon all sorts of woes.  My knees, which seemed to be doing better for a short time, recently started bothering me again; I have been ordered to keep my heart rate below 140 bpm, which makes jogging difficult anyway; I experience daily bouts of dizziness/light headedness; the concern of becoming dehydrated has inspired me to drink lots of water, despite the fact that I already have to pee every 20 minutes.  I've even developed the ever-dreaded diastasis recti within the first couple months.  (A certain level of heredity is involved in this, although it doesn't normally attack first-timers so soon.  By the by, whatever idiot says "Oh, don't worry, it's only cosmetic," about a virtual stegosaurus spine protruding from your belly has clearly never seen any of the Alien movies.)  At any rate, all of these symptoms limit my physical activity and, as most of you know, this is something that is as routine to me as brushing my teeth.   Sick!  Imagine not being able to brush your teeth regularly for nine months!  You might look something like this:

Women still swoon...

Anyway, it seems that, although the "all day sickness" has more or less subsided, the joys of childbearing have left me less than overjoyed.  Endless trips to the bathroom, beginnings of back pain and the onset of hormone-induced acne are enough to make any new mom-to-be throw up her hands in exasperation.  Don't get me wrong, I know that I will love this baby fiercely, but frankly, I don't appreciate his/her parasitic tendencies at the moment.

KNOCKED UP APPETITE COMPLAINTS

They say that in the first trimester, moms-to-be really shouldn't be gaining any weight.  Despite my best efforts to put on as much weight as humanly possible by adhering to a strict diet of Eggo waffles, Luna bars, and gummy snacks (What can I say?  I'm an over-achiever.), I only gained one pound.  True, this could be water weight or even the simple fact that I hadn't yet taken a dump when I weighed in at the doctor, but I could have sworn to you that I'd put on at least 5-7 pounds.  My belly grew thicker, my legs became puffy, and I just felt bigger.  But the scale doesn't lie, I guess.

Still, in addition to being a grouch, I have found myself in a permanently ravenous state.  While the argument could be made that neither of these descriptions are really all that different from a non-pregnant Anouchka (plenty of evidence to support that), this does pose a few pregnancy-related problems.  I've never bought into the whole "eating for two" mentality, since one of those "two" is the size of a grape (and that is how pregnant women become obese women) but, a constant need/desire to stuff my face does nothing to help the bloating or the I-only-ate-a-sandwich-but-I-feel-like-I-just-had-Thanksgiving-because-I-have-to-unbutton-my-pants sensation.

HERE'S YOUR STUPID RECIPE

In honor of all things grouchy and edible, let me share this stupid little recipe with you.  One of the great things about this mucky concoction is that it can be used endlessly to fill your gut so it will hang over your pants even more:  put it over rice or couscous for a filling bowl of fart-inspiring goodness (thanks, beans), use it to top a baked potato or -my personal favorite for all my fellow grossies out there- a (lightly?  bah!) buttered sweet potato.  (Mixture serves 3-4 as a topping)

What you need:

• Extra virgin olive oil - Do you expect me to tell you how much?  
• 2 cloves of garlic (or equivalent of minced)
• 1/2 medium onion (yellow or white work best)
• 1/2 - 1 cup bell pepper strips (any color)
• 1 can (14.5 oz) of stewed or diced tomatoes
• 1 can (15 oz) of black beans, rinsed and drained
• As much cumin as desired - Can't you figure anything out for yourself?
• Lots of chili/chipotle powder - Honestly, do I have to do everything for you?  Figure out yourself how much you want and quit bothering me.

What to do:

• In a medium-sized pot, sauté the onions and garlic in the olive oil.  Add peppers and continue to sauté until tender or your smoke alarm goes off.
• Turn off your smoke alarm and add everything else that I already told you about.
• Bring to a boil, leave the room and get so distracted by something else that you forget about the damn pot and it boils over and leaves a mess on your stove.
• Utter a stream of profanity, run back into the kitchen and reduce pot to a simmer.
• Yell upstairs that dinner is ready.
• Put the friggin' bean mess on top of whatever you decided to cook:  rice, couscous, potatoes, sweet potatoes, cereal, ice cream, hell if I care what you have for dinner.

Bon appétit.  I hope you don't choke.