Saturday, November 21, 2009
Food babies. Today I went to a baby shower. I had never been to one before, and by the fabled horrific standards of such events it was relatively civilised – we escaped with only one parlour game and a ceremonious turning-up of the stereo when 'Love Shack' came on. Also, I was called upon to sing 'Ordinary Angels' by Frente.
The parlour game was simple: everyone was issued with two nappy pins to attach to her clothing, and whoever said the word 'baby' had to hand over a pin to whoever called her on it.
Also, at this event we ate a lot of food. So, there was a lot of talk of 'food babies'. This concept comes to me, as so many scatological things do, from Tash. But it seems to be a well-known gag. A 'food baby' is when you have eaten so much that your stomach protrudes as if you are pregnant, and then you 'give birth' some hours later.
I did some research and the usual food gestation period is between 24 and 75 hours, depending on the food. However I also uncovered a conspiracy theory that maraschino cherries "nestle in your stomack for years to come". Clearly, a maraschino baby is akin to those news stories in which a woman investigates a stomach complaint that turns out to be a fossilised foetus from decades earlier.
There is such a vein of rich and juvenile humour to be mined from this concept. This afternoon, for instance, Felicity sorrowfully informed us that her food baby had miscarried. Is this a fart?
Also, last night I dined on three spicy dishes from The Restaurant Formerly Known As Dainty Sichuan, and today I discovered that there is indeed much drama involved in overseas adoption.
If the pregnant person has a partner, you can also look lovingly at him/her and say, "Aww, she has your eyes/nose/etc."
Was it a long, arduous labour? Did it need to be induced with Metamucil? Or did you fail to get to the hospital on time, and ended up giving birth in the middle of David Jones food court?
The parlour game was simple: everyone was issued with two nappy pins to attach to her clothing, and whoever said the word 'baby' had to hand over a pin to whoever called her on it.
Also, at this event we ate a lot of food. So, there was a lot of talk of 'food babies'. This concept comes to me, as so many scatological things do, from Tash. But it seems to be a well-known gag. A 'food baby' is when you have eaten so much that your stomach protrudes as if you are pregnant, and then you 'give birth' some hours later.
I did some research and the usual food gestation period is between 24 and 75 hours, depending on the food. However I also uncovered a conspiracy theory that maraschino cherries "nestle in your stomack for years to come". Clearly, a maraschino baby is akin to those news stories in which a woman investigates a stomach complaint that turns out to be a fossilised foetus from decades earlier.
There is such a vein of rich and juvenile humour to be mined from this concept. This afternoon, for instance, Felicity sorrowfully informed us that her food baby had miscarried. Is this a fart?
Also, last night I dined on three spicy dishes from The Restaurant Formerly Known As Dainty Sichuan, and today I discovered that there is indeed much drama involved in overseas adoption.
If the pregnant person has a partner, you can also look lovingly at him/her and say, "Aww, she has your eyes/nose/etc."
Was it a long, arduous labour? Did it need to be induced with Metamucil? Or did you fail to get to the hospital on time, and ended up giving birth in the middle of David Jones food court?
