Now I don’t want you to see this word and dismiss it as some namby-pamby little trifle, unworthy of the phrase ‘crisis’ or ‘affliction’, because you’ve never had it as bad as this: CRAVINGS. Now listen, focus: remember that time in kindergarten where ALLL you ever wanted was the Lickety Split My Little Pony to complete your hopes and dreams? How about that time in high school where you KNEW if you didn’t get THAT dress for the ball, you would absolutely burst into flames of fail? Howsabout those nights where you mused to yourself how much more AWESOME the night would get with some ice cream/pepper shrimp/pizza? Yeah, if you take all of those, mix them into a giant ball and set them on the fires of desperate urgency and need, then we might be getting close to what a pregnancy-induced craving feels like. I mean I honestly used to chuckle when I heard older Jamaican sayings like “if you don’t get what you’re craving for you’ll ‘mark’ the baby” (ie give birth to a baby with a birthmark in the shape of your denied craving. KFC logo birthmark anyone?) But I got pregnant and like so many other symptoms: I got it. My morning-noon-and-night sickness coupled with my bionic nose meant everything pissed me off and nothing could be eaten. BUT when I did decide to eat, all I needed in this world was some KFC hot-wings paired with a crisp, cool bottle of Lime concentrate. Yeah, the one with 2 tsp=1 jugfull? Yeah. I drank it right out the bottle with a straw. And should my husband DARE return home without my bottle of Lime juice, I could be temporarily sated with some salt, but he had about 3.75 minutes to rectify the situation or I was going to EXPLODE into hormone laden, recrimination-filled, teary, furious, horrifying shrapnel. And think of how hard that mess would have been to explain, huh?