Two of my favorite work people—although there are a lot—have informed me that Eastern medicine is hokum. One has cast aspersions on acupuncture and the other was aghast over the herbs. “You’re not going to take them, are you??” Um, yeah, I am.
Wednesday nights used to be high points for me: Heather would go out to dinner with friends, and I would eat junk food and watch junk TV without her watchful eye upon me. It was terrific. Now, even though I get the TV and couch to myself—I totally sit in Heather’s spot—I don’t get to indulge in McNuggets or cookies. Tonight will be scrambled eggs with (organic) spinach, and maybe a dessert of (organic) cherries. For breakfast this morning, on my boss’ dime, I had scrambled eggs with dry wheat toast. Reader, I gave away my bacon.
Candace, the acupuncturist, told me to eat dark purple and red foods for now. I envisioned grapes, but for some reason she also said eggs. Maybe “red” is different in China. Maybe eggs are different in China. Maybe anti-acupuncture/sweet-potato-doubting Adam and herb-alarmist Grayson, in their everlasting nutritional wisdom, don’t even know about Chinese eggs.
I’m pretty confident, though, that Candace’s instructions are not so open to interpretation that “keep avoiding processed foods” actually means “eat heavily-frosted cake.” I’m also pretty confident that I’m pregnant. Not because I have any reason to believe that I am, but because I’ve not been given any reason (other than, say, statistics) to believe I’m not. Sunday, whilst eating some healthy (organic) cantaloupe, I paused for a moment, turned to the kitchen sink, and vomited up all the organicness. This was a clear reminder that it is a legitimately bad idea to take prenatal vitamins on an empty stomach, but also a sweet moment of fantasy. I plan to keep hold of that fantasy until the (adorably plump) lady bleeds.