At the grocery store today a pile of mangoes beckoned to me from the edge of the produce section, seducing me with their smooth skin and plump, blushing cheeks. OhmygodI’mtotallycravingamangoI’dforgottenaboutmangosyumyum I babbled to Dr. Fiance as we headed toward the checkout aisle. I managed to control myself until after dinner, when I sliced the fruit off its pit and shoved it into my mouth like a starving baby.
Within ten seconds my hands started to itch. Then my lips, then my chin and cheeks—basically every part of my face below my nose felt it had been attacked by mosquitoes. “Is it possible,” I asked Dr. Fiance, all casual-like, “to develop food allergies when you’re pregnant that you didn’t used to have?” He said, sure, not looking up from his laptop. “Why?” “Oh, it’s just that after eating a few bites of mango my face, um, itches.” He looked up at me, his eyes all big and then this man who’s totally nonchalant about spending his workdays pulling knives out of peoples’ skulls and testing other people for cancer was suddenly all, “Do. Not. Eat. Mango. Ever. Again. Promise me!”
Maybe we won’t be going to Hawai'i for our honeymoon after all.