29-ish weeks

Does anyone remember when my belly didn't look like this?

Me either.

I just got back from spending my morning at the nearby health clinic. After not having eaten for about 18 hours, having been pricked with a needle 5 times, and sitting in a waiting room for 3 hours, I'm just happy to be home nomming on Great Harvest's honey whole wheat bread. Nom nom.

The reason I was doing all of these things (fasting, getting blood drawn, sitting around at the health clinic) was because I failed my glucose test, which is a standard screen for gestational diabetes that they do around 24 to 28 weeks gestation.

Failing the first test means you have to go back and do another, more intense test. One which requires you to fast, get your blood drawn, drink an even grosser glucose drink (which is too bad, because if you're consuming a lot of sugar, it should at least taste really good, in my opinion), then get your blood drawn again, and again, and again. Three more times every hour.

I don't know if you were paying attention to the math, but if you were, you might be wondering why,  if I only had to get my blood drawn four times, did I have five needle pricks in my arm? Well, that's because I was shooting up drugs one of those times. Just kidding. Or am I? Actually, my veins are small, so one of the attempts to draw blood was unsuccessful. 

I guess my take-home message is to reduce my sugar intake because my body is not handling it super well. Regardless of whether my insulin resistance is at diabetic levels, I can say that my pregnant self has much more of a sweet tooth than my non-pregnant self, which has resulted in considerable sugary food intake on my part (and Tim's). Apparently that's not healthy. For some reason, the only things that sound appetizing whatsoever these days are ice cream, cinnamon rolls, and cookies. But on the bright side, we have this food group ("sweets"?) to thank for my weight gain. A couple of months ago, I wasn't doing well at gaining the right amount of weight (my midwife told me to eat more). But last week my weight gain looked good. I chalk it up to the cookies. Nom nom.

The other take-home message, I suppose, is don't do drugs.

how to chop an onion, or the greatest regret of my life

Once upon a time I went to culinary arts school. Tuition at the DATC (Davis Applied Technology College) was free for high school juniors and seniors in our district. I started the culinary arts program the summer after my junior year. Unfortunately, I had too many schedule conflicts that summer to keep up the course, so I ended up quitting after a few weeks.

The first few weeks were all about food safety and regulations. You had to pass that part before you could actually start working in the kitchen. Once I was qualified for work in the kitchen, I learned a neat way to chop onions. Shortly thereafter, I quit cooking school, which is possibly the greatest regret of my life.

I chop a lot of onions to this day. Usually I do it like this (the special way I learned when I went to cooking school):

the day I got two haircuts

I struggle with my hair sometimes. I would like for my hair to look nice, but I don't like to spend money. But in order for my hair to look nice, I need to get it cut sometimes. Also, I'm pretty sure it looks better when I have some highlights in it. I do that on occasion, as well. Generally about twice a year, perhaps.

Because I'm cheap, I generally go to places like hair schools and Great Clips for my hair needs. Anyone who knows and cares about their hair will probably tell you this is quite often a bad idea. Maybe if I knew a really great stylist already, I'd be more resistant to the voices of low prices that call out to me, but I generally succumb to their siren calls. About a week ago, I went to this place called Sexy Hair that was advertising $7.50 cuts. I went there with dirty hair because I was expecting a shampoo and style. Despite my suspicions, I didn't realize at first how bad the cut really was since spray-bottle cuts tend to result in ugliness no matter what (for me).

I got home and felt too tired to worry about my hair, so I took a nap.  Then it was time to really evaluate the damage. After showering and styling my locks, I was nearly in tears and felt desperate measures were needed. I had asked for a trim and received a butcher job like some worthless piece of meat. So to Great Clips I dashed, and now my hair situation is somewhat manageable, though not ideal.

In my heart, I wish that hair wouldn't grow or that we were all born completely bald, but I guess I've learned a lesson: when you're cheap, sometimes you get what you pay for. Whether this will stop me from frequenting second-hand stores and Great Clips-esque hair-cutting institutions is another matter.

another embarrassing moment brought to you by a younger Amanda

Remember tear-away pants? 

I used to have a pair. I also used to be in a dance class. Once, I wore my tear-away pants to my dance lesson. Supposedly, it was standard practice with these pants to wear shorts underneath. As a harmless joke, a fellow dance classmate decided to tear away my pants. The joke wasn't as harmless as it could have been, though, because instead of revealing shorts, she revealed my underwear. Just to be safe, I might have never worn these pants again.

2012

I've seen the words "May 2012 . . . " a couple of times so far, and every time I do, I read it as the month of May, not the verb (as it is used). It's tripping me up.

May 2012 bring you and yours the best!