I am scheduled to go in for my gestational diabetes test sometime in the first week or two of January, and it is going to be nothing short of a miracle if I actually pass this thing. Even though I passed just fine last time, and it is a routine test that every pregnant woman in America is subjected to, I am starting to get a nagging fear that my unborn child’s insatiable need for sugar IN ANY FORM IT CAN GET IT is not doing me any favors. Short of spooning it straight from the bag, I have ingested just about every sweet treat I can get my grubby paws on. It has even sunk to the level where I go to get a fairly-legal peanut butter bagel and have started asking them to throw in a couple of those really yummy (sugar sprinkled) gingersnaps.

Yesterday’s consumption consisted of about 7 pieces of fudge, 2 deliciously spicy and sweet gingersnaps, a bunch of gummy bears and some of that rockin’ peppermint bark that Jenny sends us at Christmas. These items, all combined with the otherwise legal-ish items I consumed yesterday put me somewhere on the scale between sugar ho and carb coma. No wonder I gained 10 pounds last month.

I am trying to do the right thing by coming out. However, I fear that now it will only make me go underground – sneaking candy fixes while no one is watching, trolling bakeries and candy stores, pimping myself out for a bag of M&M’s. Or, as Lewis and Steve discussed last weekend at Stella’s birthday party: buying Hostess fruit pies and hiding the wrappers.

At least I am pregnant, guys.