The ‘Ask Anything’ column in this month’s Women’s Health magazine — print edition, but not, oddly, in the online version — has a question that starts, “Is it OK to drink wine and eat sushi until I know for sure I’m pregnant?”
How long, do you suppose, that would be? How long might it take to get pregnant from drinking wine and eating sushi?
Is one kind of wine, or one kind of sushi, more likely to be the magic elixir?
What’s wrong with the idea of getting pregnant the old-fashioned way?
The magazine question continues, “Or do I have to stop if I’m just trying?”
The magazine’s answer to the original question provides both an answer and another question:
The answer: “Moderate consumption of both is fine during the two-week ‘Am I preggo or what?’ window.”
So, now we know consuming “moderate amounts” for two weeks — ideally through a window, for some reason — puts one at risk of getting “preggo” (some kind of sushily-transmitted disease [STD]?).
(I know you don’t get wine-related “preggo” from two weeks of ‘moderate’ drinking of wine. I drank well over two weeks’ worth inside of one week some years back in Kosovo, and I only got heartburn to a degree I was unable to enjoy the wonderful-looking meal served to me post-trip at a Rhine-side restaurant in Rudesheim, Germany, where I was hosted by an executive of the company that sponsored the journalists’ wine-tasting trip I’d just completed.)
(The dozen or so journalists and their hosts spent the better part of four hours per day ‘enjoying’ essentially the same meal, first for two hours at lunch then the same or more time at dinner, for five days, as we toured a relatively small area where local officials wanted us to get a ‘taste’ of their local specialties. Each meal was washed down with copious quantities of local wine.
(For variety, one day, I bought a meat patty of some sort from a fry-to-order guy with a roadside cart. That was about as ‘local specialty’ as you can get — and it was good, too, as the lingering memory, forty years on, attests!)
But the newly-raised question, in the magazine’s answer, concerns that window.
Is that a metaphor of some kind? Am I missing something?
Was that sushi I had for lunch the elixir — giving me a dose of ‘preggo’, resulting, rapidly, in an inability to clearly see the symbolism of a ‘window’?
(I only had a couple of sips, officer!)
On more than a few occasions, when eating alone and being bored while waiting for a server to perform his most important task, I’ve read the warning label the government insists be on wine bottles. That label cautions against drinking wine while pregnant, but gives no indication that — as Women’s Health magazine would have you believe — wine drinking in conjunction with sushi-eating could conceivably lead to a sizable financial commitment over the following twenty or so years as you shepherd a result (or two, or three) of that consumption through childhood and adolescence until, all being well, s/he or they trundle off toward what Nellie the elephant escaped — the circus; In this case, the circus that comprises adult life.
Hopefully, neither he nor she nor they, as the case may be, would have had any cause, during all those growing-up years, to wonder if they were either ‘preggo’ in a reproductive sense or, worse, a spaghetti sauce stuffed with an extra G.
(If the latter thought ever arose, odds are the thinker was ‘sauced’, or a consumer of something more potent than alcohol.)