I don't get away with anything. I mean, I'm technically expecting a baby! But no eating for two. No buying maternity clothes. No strangers trying to invade my bubble. Nothing.
Just once I'd love some huge hormonal fit, complete with balling and throwing things! And in a public place! While demanding ice cream! I'd put a beach ball under my shirt so everyone would know where it was coming from.
When I was pregnant with my daughter I made my husband do midnight chimichanga runs as I laid on the couch weighing over two thousand pounds. And as he was running out the door I'd ask him if I looked fat and if he found me pretty. (I may have had puke in my hair.) Then he'd come home with the chimichanga and it would smell terrible because the window of opportunity to feed me in between bouts of harsh nausea had come and gone. I would get upset with him that he wasn't faster and ask him why in the world he would bring a chimichanga into my house when I'm this miserable?!!! Then he would have to walk down the road to the dumpster to throw it away because the smell was making me hurl. About ten minutes after I hurled all I wanted in the world was a chimichanga. Not having one in my hand that instance was also, I'm pretty sure, my husband's fault.
Heh. Good times.
<<<UPDATE>>> My husband says it was a chalupa. I blamed not remembering on my pregnancy hormones. Yep still using that one. :)
<<<ANOTHER UPDATE>>> My husband then said, "You said you were over two thousand pounds, you meant to write two hundred. You were over two hundred pounds if I remember right."
I let him live.