Cravings be Crazy

I don't even remember how we got on the topic, but the other day, Curtis and I were talking about pregnancy cravings. And he had the audacity - the audacity - to suggest that, during my pregnancies, I overstated the urgency of my need for certain foods.

Clearly the man just doesn't have any idea of what a pregnancy craving feels like.

"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "Remember the turkey sandwich?"

He laughed. "Oh yes. The turkey sandwich."

The turkey sandwich was my very first pregnancy craving ever. It happened before I even knew I was pregnant - in fact, pregnancy was the furthest thing from my mind since we had been battling infertility for the last five years. We were living in Germany at the time, and it was a frigid evening in October. Curtis and I had met our friend Vince at a little pub for some billiards and beer.

I should have known something was weird when I wanted a beer. I don't even like beer, never have. Not the watery American beers and especially not the stout German beers that are all, like, hoppy and wheat-y and whatever else beer is made of. Yet that night, I downed a tall glass like it was water.

But then came the real craving.

A turkey-effing-sandwich, y'all.

It was seriously so overwhelming that I distinctly remember the moment it hit me. I actually gripped the side of the pool table. And it wasn't like, "Hmm, I think I'd fancy a turkey sandwich, la de da." It was like, "MUST! HAVE! TURKEY! SANDWICH! NOOOOOOOOWWWWW!" with a lot of drooling and bugged-out eyes and scary gnashing of teeth.

"Does this place sell food?" I asked Curtis and Vince, trying to be cool.

"They do during the day, but the kitchen is closed," I was told.

Okay, Rita, just relax. It's not important. You can do without a turkey sandwich.

But ... it was important. And for reasons unknown to me, I could not do without a turkey sandwich. It wasn't a question.

"I need a turkey sandwich," I said weakly to my companions.

They laughed.

"No!" I said, a little too forcefully. "I mean seriously, you guys, I need a turkey sandwich."

Curtis and Vince looked at me like I'd grown another head. They saw the desperation in my eyes.

"I stopped by the store before I came here," said Vince. "There might be some turkey in the trunk of my - "

Before he even finished the sentence, I was all, "GIVE ME YOUR KEYS!!!" and when he handed them over, slightly afraid, I dashed down the stairs and out into the night.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up on a German street, ragged breath swirling into the cold air, rummaging like a madwoman through the trunk of Vince's car. And finding a package of turkey. And shoveling the entire thing into my mouth with two fists, feeling completely insane and out of control the entire time.

... But also like, "Yeaaaaaaah. Tuuuuuurrrrkeeeeeeyyyyy."

Out of four pregnancies, I've craved runny eggs on toast and McDonald's cheeseburgers, crab legs and pad Thai, and Asiago bagels from Panera bread with sundried tomato cream cheese. Many times, Curtis has found himself making out of the way trips at all odd hours at knifepoint to fulfill these requests. So I can see how he'd be a little salty about it. BUT. For him to say that I didn't really need those things is like saying that you don't really need a big space to keep an elephant in. How can you make them comprehend that pregnancy cravings are so strong that you can fantasize about them while you are actually puking?

Dudes. They just don't understand.

What was your biggest pregnancy craving?