Officially Disgusted with Myself

We all know that by week 35 of pregnancy there is no such thing as grace and beauty. I wasn't the most graceful being around in the first place, but now the word Oaf just doesn't seem to do me justice. Yesterday though I reached a point of actually disgusting myself. A new low.  After our doctor's appointment (which I will get to in a moment) we walked into the hospital to see what the snack-rack had. I was hungry and I wasn't waiting 45 minutes to get home. I grabbed a turkey and cheddar sandwich on rye and a Zooberfizz Root Beer. Let me try to explain how our hospital makes the sandwiches at the snack-rack. About the size of my head. They are seriously packed with meat on homemade bread. Huge. Ginormous. Massive. I got in the car, squeezed on some mayo and mustard and started chowing down. A couple of bites, a swig of Zoober, a couple of more bites, some more Zoober. I had a system going. Then right when my loving husband brought to my attention that I was mowing down that sandwich like I hadn't eaten in months, which made me realize that I truly was eating like a pig, the Zoober caught up to me mid-bite. Yup, the biggest most horrendous burp I've ever released came out as I was taking a bite. Seriously? Gross. naturally how could my loving husband just let that one slide? The comments came flying, laughter accompanied by tears and wheezing, and of course, disgust. I just made a record low for being an A-typical pregnant woman. I continued to eat crumbs off my belly and put the sandwich away. I did finish my Zooberfizz, though.

I feel as though I might be the only person in the entirety of this nation that has ever done such a thing. Strangely enough, though, I do not feel so special about it.