The Disintegration of an Ideal

Prior to becoming pregnant, I hadn’t eaten meat in four or five years. I had had fish once in a while, thanks to Ryan’s extreme talent at cooking irresistible salmon. But no other dead flesh had passed my lips for quite some time.

Early in my pregnancy my appetite nearly vanished. I didn’t have cravings so much as I had things I could imagine possibly … maybe … eating. Over those six or so weeks, our fridge and pantry were stocked with blueberry yogurt, (fresh blueberries, at times), apple sauce, saltines, “good for you” higher-fiber white bread, peanut butter, grape jelly, Apple Jacks, and Fruity Pebbles. I usually supplemented grazing on these foods with one “real” meal per day, which depended on what mood struck me at the time. There were many days of PB&J for lunch and dinner, though.

One evening after work I was watching television when a Subway commercial came on. I was suddenly struck with the notion that what I wanted to eat was a turkey sub from Subway, with cucumbers, tomatoes, and Dijon mustard. I was feeling pretty lousy but courageously drove down the street to our local Subway. During my drive, I started to remember the rather slimy texture of turkey meat from Subway. So while in line I followed the lead of the woman in front of me and ordered a chicken breast sandwich, instead. I knew full well that this chicken breast sandwich was no real chicken breast, but was instead a not-too-distant cousin of the hot dog, made with chicken parts. I ordered it with cucumbers and green peppers. I couldn’t fathom having the texture of the mostly-water iceberg lettuce comingled with the crispier vegetables. (Textures were a very key part of what I could and could not eat back then.)

I wolfed down 95% of that compressed-meat delicacy.

Another day, I was at a picnic. They were grilling up burgers and dogs. I decided hot dogs would taste quite good. I ate not just one, but three of them. Happily.

Since then, I have consumed at least half a dozen more hot dogs, sausage in a scramble at The Flying Biscuit, and several bites of chateaubriand at a wedding. Monday night I stopped by the Whole Foods hot bar to pick up dinner. I got a random mix of vegetarian options for me, and Cajun chicken with all the trimmings for Ryan.
By mid-meal I was gnawing Ryan’s Cajun chicken off its bones.

He took pictures.