This post was going to be much longer, but I took out all my back story to show what a pregnant woman will desperately do to fulfill a love affair craving for pizza.
Cheese pizza from Costco. It cannot be from anywhere else; just Costco.
We all know the insanity at Costco. First, I have to fight my way through the parking lot where it seems that no one, drivers and pedestrians alike, pays attention to what is around them. Families exit out of the building with cartloads of polyunsaturated fats, triglycerides, and the occasional enormous tub of vitamins or protein shakes, texting on their phones, yanking oblivious children's arms, or {this is my favorite} rifling through and doing what seems to be an inventory of the items they had impulsively purchased right in the middle of the parking lot aisle.
After parking and making my way through the maze of Suburbans, Expeditions, and any rogue carts whizzing by, I make my way through the entrance and to the food windows. I can always judge how long the lines will be by the item-filled carts lined up haphazardly alongside the tables. On any given day, there are at least 20. Sure enough, the lines are 6-8 people deep. It's a frickin Wednesday morning -- don't you people have jobs? I get in line behind a woman with 3.5 children and wait. And wait. And wait. During all this, I notice the old man at the window at the front of my line, dressed in what looks like a brand new Ralph Lauren polo and Brooks Brothers chinos, but is slowly counting the dimes and nickels he's paying with for his one berry parfait. At the window to his left, you see a man carrying a fidgety 3 year old and standing with an equally fidgety 5 year old who orders 3 slices of pizza, two drinks, and a chocolate ice cream, only to realize that he has no cash for this cash-only transaction. These are the kinds of people who have somehow gotten ahead of me in line and I am so frustrated that I have only one item to order that would have taken 10 seconds out of this pandemonium.
Finally, it's my turn at the window. Before the acne faced boy even finishes his "Hello, how are y----" I am able to blurt out my order. "Hi, a slice of cheese pizza, please." BOOM. He rushes to the pizza warmer, grabs a slice, and before he is even able to give me the total amount, I hand over $2.15 {$1.99 + tax = $2.14}, say a quick thank you, and push my way through the crowded lines that seemed to have doubled from the time you got here.
After grabbing napkins and stalking the Brooks Brothers man and his wife as they slowly get up, I slide myself into the first seat at their table, and look at my prize.
It's a perfect slice. Sure, it was a battle getting to this point, but now, nothing else matters. It's just me and my pizza. It is perfectly gooey, not too greasy, and the crust is toasted to have that golden, almost caramelized flavor. I pick up the slice, and take a bite. It is warm and I fight my way through cutting through the cheese to avoid it swinging down after the bite. It tastes buttery and milky. As I chew, all the noise in the background fades and I wonder why I ever debated having anything else for lunch -- or for any other meal, for all it's worth.
To take a break from my food fantasy, remember that I am 4 1/2 months pregnant. When in this place {and I mean freshly out of the precarious everything-makes-me-sick-so-I'd-rather-not-eat stage, not to mention now in the I-can-eat-whatever-I-want-without-worrying-too-much-about-weight-gain-Yes-Dr.-Moore-I-know-not-TOO-much}, eating what I want especially with this demolition derby appetite is complete ecstasy. Women lie when they say that this is not one of the perks of being pregnant. We love this. It is the eating of our lives!
It isn't a surprise that the same evening after I had my pizza for lunch, I convinced J to take me back to Costco to have it again for dinner. And although I know how much he dreads the bedlam that is Costco, he is secretly just thankful that I am eating anything. And quite frankly, I'm thankful for my pizza too! ;-)
