Get in my belly. I guess.

I can't say I've always been a huge eater. Certain things, sure (Chipotle burritos, any kind of cheesy pasta, fried zucchini, chocolate cake...). But overall? Not so much. I just get too full.

This is a problem now that I'm pregnant -- especially since my eating habits have declined, which is basically the opposite of what happens to everyone else.

You know that feeling of being hungry but not really liking the sound of ANYTHING? That's how I've felt for the last, oh, three months. It's infuriating. I know I need to eat, but the idea of actually doing it sometimes makes me feel ill. So I've been eating things that I know won't make me want to die. Apples, white rice with lemon, celery with salt, string cheese, baked potatoes, lighter soups, plain crackers. A stellar diet, I know. But it's what I did.

I use the past tense there because I got my ass handed to me by my doctor last week after she discovered I had actually lost two pounds since my first visit.

"Well, no shit," I thought. "My first visit was post-Hawaii when I was at the heaviest I'd been in my life. Since then, I stopped drinking copious amounts of alcohol and couldn't bear the thought of a hearty meal. Of COURSE I lost two measly pounds."

Instead, I mumbled something about not liking food right now. The response was something like, "Too bad. Force it."

Now I am under strict orders to eat something every three hours -- and not the light crap I've been eating. Instead of an apple, it's got to be an apple with peanut butter. Instead of plain crackers, I need to add cheese to it. And don't even THINK about skipping breakfast. Pound that protein shake, preggo.

So here I am, at 1:30pm, on my third "meal." I had that goddamn protein shake at 8am, Greek yogurt at 11am, orzo with spinach right now. I've also got a bag of chips with my name on it, waiting to be opened around 3pm. And then when I get home, it's onto cheese and crackers before force-feeding myself some kind of dinner.

I'm hoping that my appetite will magically reappear sometime in these next few weeks, especially since I'm moving into week 17 of this disaster. Until then, if you need me, I'll be the skinny bitch begrudgingly tied up to the refrigerator.