My relationship with food right now is contentious, if not downright violent.  I find no pleasure in eating except to calm the rocky hunger pangs in my stomach.  I crave something different every single day.  My stomach is holding less which means I am eating less....and I am hungry more.  If I dare miss a meal,  my body punishes me by heaving until green bile spews out of my mouth.  Sometimes,  I find it sickeningly cathartic but I know it's abusive.  The prenatal pill makes me a different type of nauseous. The slightest aromas, pleasant or not, are aggressive and attack my sense of smell like a ninja, creeping up unaware and then POW! out of nowhere, my brain is scrambling trying to hold my stomach at bay, and keep an appropriate/non-offensive look on my face if I am in the presence of people.  My own mother's body odor offended me so much last weekend that I had to sit across the table from her at a restaurant.  I used to love sticking my face into my husband's armpit after he had slathered on some fresh deodorant.  Now,  I cringe at the very thought.

God has intricately designed these things to be so. Who am I to question?  It would be nice to like food again but soon and very soon all will be back to normal again.  On the meantime, I'm gonna enjoy the rest of my personal day forcing root chips down my throat for the sake of having something in my stomach.