There's this new Indian food place by my house; it's so close that I could bike there if I were nonpregnant and nonlazy.
So much appreciation do I have for this food. I went there twice yesterday, and made a lunch date with my friend for future deliciousness. Their food is currently the only real-meal food that doesn't make me violently ill, and I start sweating when we run out. This is progress, though, from an entirely cracker-based diet of the last few weeks.
The compulsion to Google search 'intense food craving pregnancy' led me to discover that there is a blogger (Heather Flett of RookieMoms) who has already addressed the funny premise of naming one's child after the particular cravings that prevailed (ruled!) during the gestation.
James would be Colby Jack Cheese and Matzoh (nn Jack).
Will would be Campbell's Chicken-with-Rice Soup, or perhaps, Funfetti Batter (I don't have a good nickname for that one. 'Fetti?).
Elise would be called McDonald's Hash Browns Right This Minute (nn Mickey Dee).
This baby shall be known as Chicken Tikka Masala with Basmati Rice Oh Dear God Please It's So Good.
Another gem unearthed in this Googling: Wikipedia claims that there is something called Taste Addiction Disorder, which is:
"a psychological condition with a biochemical basis in the brain where the person develops an obsessive/compulsive relationship with food...the brain produces more dopamine, which drenches the brain in 'happy hormones'. Other [non-food] ways of giving the brain a dopamine bath include, but are not limited to, singing, running, dancing, laughing with other people, or engaging in sex."
Ehhh, sex? Kind of a tall order right now. At this point I could be more easily encouraged to do a full reenactment of The Sound of Music.
Not pictured: sex.