The Battle of the Bacon

My number one nemesis during the first few months of my pregnancy was Bacon. The smell of Bacon, the sight of Bacon, even the very thought of Bacon made me want to hurl every single time I encountered it.

It puzzled me that no one in my house seemed to share my passionate dislike for this evil food. Nearly every day the awful, lingering smell of Bacon would slither its way through the house, mocking me and daring me to exterminate it, and no one besides me seemed to mind. On the contrary, my mother-in-law as well as my step-daughter formed an alliance with this sworn enemy of mine, and in consequence I was forced to retreat to my bedroom every time a BLT sandwich was made. Sitting in my room only worked half the time, because unlike some other revolting smells, Bacon knew how to sneak its way through the cracks in my door, finding me alone and helpless inside.

The worst part about my battle with the Bacon was the way the smell would linger and stay in the house for hours and hours. If I needed to use the restroom an hour or two later, the smell of Bacon would still be hovering in my hallway, waiting to torment me and ambush my room. It truly was an evil food.

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The good news is that my first trimester is over and I'm halfway through my second trimester. Bacon and I are finally beginning the slow process of healing and acceptance. Today when my mother-in-law made a BLT sandwich I surprisingly did not rush to close my door. I even found myself walking into the kitchen afterwards, looking for a snack to eat. Perhaps Bacon was not nearly as bad as I thought it once was. Maybe I will learn to like it again.