A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York.
By Nina Pajak
And here we are. It’s Cyber . . . uh, Wednesday.
I don’t know what it is this year, but the more I am besieged by notices and emails and mailers and flyers and coupons and discount codes (10% off everything over $200! Free shipping on all orders placed last week!), the less I want to shop. And the more anxious I become, and the less equipped I feel to deal with all the endless, endless, screaming offers.
THANKSGIVING WHO? GET SPENDING! I feel like I haven’t even finished digesting my fourteenth helping of stuffing, and I’m already running out of time.
I’m trying. I’m reallllly trying to be happy and not grumpy and impatient and stressed out and pressed for time this holiday season. And I sure do appreciate a deal–who doesn’t?–but I believe every email I get loudly demanding that I immediately begin buying things directly affects my cortisol levels. You know, cortisol? That stress hormone that causes us to become fat and lumpy and in need of pills we see on TV like CortiSlim and CortiFit and Slimisol and FatFaceOff and XTremeXXSlimExxitol.
My stress and the number of solicitation emails in my inbox are directly proportional.
You see? Charts don’t lie.
Anyway, typically I’d deal with this by partaking in great quantities of socially accepted excessive drinking, this being the holidays and all. But the thing is, I’m pregnant. So, there goes the Bailey’s, and we’ll eighty-six the soft cheese plate of unknown provenance, too (listeria). And the smoked fish (listeria). And the cured meats (listeria?). And the sushi rolls (salmonella). And the pigs in blankets (nitrites). And I need to go easy on the shrimp cocktail and the crabcakes (mercury). But hey! I can always drown my anxiety in a platter full of mini quiche. Seriously, stay. Away. From. The. Mini quiche. MINE.
See? I’m communing with children already.
No, really, I’m actually eating quite well. Turns out there is no end to the amount and variety of meals involving melted cheese and sauce a pregnant woman can consume.
Anyway, as thrilled and blissful as I am to be expecting a baby (and I really, really am), I had not anticipated the exterior stressors the holidays bring with them. And there are only so many mocktails a girl can drink before she wants to puke (fun fact: it’s actually fewer than the number of actual cocktails it takes to puke).
This oughta be an interesting month.