The recent surge in hormones has meant a total overhaul in the daily products around here. A brief review of the changes:
Deodorant: switch from Dove to Degree For Men. Dove is a crappy deodorant anyway, Degree is way better, and the regular men’s scent doesn’t scream “manly cologne.” Which is nice, even though I’d rather smell like a dude than smell, period. I’ve been extra-warm and it’s Hawaii in August, so it’s nice to get out without sweat stains.
Face: Sensitive skin cleanser, no toner, to acne fighting facial cleanser with toner. Apparently my facial oil glands think they’re pregnant too, and are anxious to show off their new form. No fewer than five planetoids have popped out on my face. That “glow” they talk about has to be oil, I know it. I haven’t looked this pizza-ish since late high school.
Speaking of pizza: random craving number one is pepperoni. Raw Hormel, right out of the pack. Sure it doesn’t sit well, but if I’m going to just yak it up anyway, might as well enjoy it on the way down.
Random craving number 2: Fruit Roll-Ups and Gushers Fruit snacks. These don’t resemble fruit so much as they resemble plastics, but they are mighty tasty.
Two things which I used to consume a lot and don’t miss in the slightest: beer and wine. I *theoretically* miss the taste of wine, or being able to order a beer. But then I think about the actual taste, and I go into a full-body convulsion. I can’t remember the desire to drink to excess, nor can I imagine the idea of ever drinking again, even in small amounts. I can’t believe people have to be warned not to drink when they’re pregnant, because the very thought makes my stomach want to turn inside out. Maybe I’m just special.
The last two weeks have redefined my concept of “morning sickness.” I thought it was constant vomiting, and for some I’m sure it is. For me it’s just the perpetual “almost” feeling, like I could throw up, but I don’t. Three or four times I’ve gone over the tipping point, once having to bail out of a conversation with my boss, so that was awkward.
So I’ve got my super-acne products, my men’s deodorant, my pepperoni, my plastic fruit snacks, and my rolling nausea. It’s a hell of a party.