A man must have coined the term "morning sickness". There is nothing "morning" about it. This thing I am experiencing would be more properly called, "Really &*%$ing sick, every #*$%ing minute of every $%&*ing day". Although, I guess that doesn't really have much of a ring to it.
In an interesting turn of events, I am famished along with nauseated. The body is capable of truly amazing things.
The only food item that sounds even close to palatable? Sushi. Pregnant women aren't supposed to eat sushi. Which means that I am reduced to dreaming about.
Christian Bale, sorry honey, it is over. From here on out all fantasies will feature only me, chopsticks and an order of spicy scallops.