For many years I’ve given regular thanks to God for creating coffee. I’ve loved coffee since I was a teenager. I drank it black and doing so may well have saved me from obesity. I love food, and the battle between my appetite and my vanity would have been a pretty evenly matched one, had not vanity the invincible Black Knight on her side. When I wanted something to satisfy a vague but unspecified taste craving, black coffee could almost always do the trick.
But not anymore. Three times I was pregnant, lost the taste for coffee in the nausea-wracked first trimester, but was back in black again by month four. (Before anyone sends me “you’re such a bad mother” e-mails or comments, yes, yes, YES already, I kept my consumption moderate while pregnant, and all my babies were perfectly fine.)
Then came this pregnancy, and I’m full term and still can’t stand the taste of black coffee. Oh, I like it just fine with lots of whole milk and vanilla-flavored sweetener, but if the situation persists, that’s not going to help get the baby weight off. Why, oh, why?
Alas, I suppose it is not for me to reason why. Was I there when God created the heavenly bean? The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. I’m just hoping that in this admittedly rather trivial case he taketh pity and giveth back.