No Snack for You!

"I'm not worried about you getting fat. I'm just worried about your self-loathing."

These were my husband's last words to me before he headed off to bed tonight. Now that I'm over six months pregnant, there is no ignoring my bulbous new silhouette. I had a hard time losing the pregnancy weight after my first baby and am paranoid this time around about packing on the pounds. My poor husband has to sit by and watch as I stuff my face with Christmas goodies and junk food knowing that there is no diet in sight for months to come. But through it all, he's been overwhelmingly supportive and frequently tells me how beautiful he thinks I am. And I believed it. Until the other night.

On Friday evening we went to bed around 10:00. I've had trouble sleeping lately and made some comment about being hungry as I lay down. Spike grunted, stuck in his earplugs and promptly fell asleep. After a few minutes I rolled out of bed and toddled off into the kitchen for a light snack (does a PBJ, jello pudding and 4 cookies count as "light?"). After watching a few hours of trashy reality tv, I decided to try sleeping again. I snuck into bed as quietly as possible and was just pulling up the blankets when Spike shot his arm out and pinned me down, roughly grabbing my shoulder.

"You were just about to go to the kitchen, weren't you?" he accused, gruffly.
"Honey, I'm just coming to bed right now!"

Spike didn't say a word but tightened his grip on my shoulder. I was pinned down flat on my back which isn't fun for a big fat pregnant women. I tried to turn onto my side to sleep but this only elicited another frantic pinion from Spike and I was unable to change position. At this point, I realized that he must be still half asleep but I was also highly amused at his fierce moral stance on my not getting a snack. Any movement I attempted for the next half hour was met with his brutish resistance. I couldn't get over the absurdity of it all and played along while lamenting the powerful subconscious pressures dictating his ridiculous behavior.

Finally I could take no more and millimeter by millimeter rolled over onto my side, gently easing his arm back onto his side of the bed. When I questioned Spike about the incident the next morning he had no memory of it. I feel for the guy. Having to sit by and watch his wife blow up like a pufferfish can't be fun. Leave it to the sub-conscience to bring that to the surface!