I was asked this question last week at a book related event. Oscar said my face fell and showed the shock and horror I was feeling. I'm not pregnant, but apparently look like I could be. This is okay for me to think about, but I'm not ready for others to ahem, weigh in. Gaining and losing weight happens to me enough that I don't usually freak out or dwell on it too much. When the new year arrived, I blamed the extra weight on the holidays. Now that we're edging into summer? There's no good excuse.
Well. How to respond to such a nosy question? I stammered, "Uh.... no. Um," with a nervous laugh.
Ever since college, this baby has haunted me. My friend Shanagh used to joke when we were out on the town that it was a baby from beer consumption. She would embarass me by rubbing my belly and saying "Food Baby!" in a loud squeaky voice. She has known me since 1980, which is the only reason I would tolerate that. Her approach was magical at scaring away potential boyfriends (and hookups), and I would try to get revenge by making fun of her butt, which has always been bigger than mine.
Oscar knows about the Food Baby nickname. Lately he's insisted it's more of a Beer Baby than anything else. He was probably trying to be helpful by informing me, "You know that beer is like bread. You're basically eating a whole loaf when you have two or three beers a day." Good to know, but that's not news. The thing is, I don't want to switch to hard alcohol or wine, or worry about carbs. I really, really love beer more than any other adult beverage. It's refreshing and so enjoyable.
It seems the Food (Beer) Baby has turned into a symbol of over indulgence for me. Perhaps I need to better follow the "calories in, calories out" approach. Nothing as lame and boring as a diet, though. I'll try to ignore all the shiny beautiful bottles of beer we have in the fridge; on weeknights, anyway. We'll see if that will help tame and perhaps lessen the Food (Beer) Baby.