I think it's widely known that during pregnancy, some (most?) women's sense of smell improves. I should put it "improves" because, living in a city, this is not really a good thing. For some reason, as I head into my third and final trimester of this pregnancy, the dog-like sense of smell that I've had throughout has gotten *even better*, resulting in some of the most disgusting BART rides I've ever been on.

Wednesday, when I was taking the long ride from 16th St Mission to Downtown Berkeley, I first had Lice Boy sitting next to me -- a kid about 11 years old who scratched his head incesantly the entire ride, either with his fingers, or, more horrifyingly, by rubbing the back of his head against the fabric of our shared seatback. As I fought down my formication response, he finally departed (about halfway through the ride), and immediately Mr. Smelly Pants got on and stood over me, literally -- it was crowded, so he sort of leaned over me to balance himself. I chewed peppermint gum and pulled out my Tums pack to hold in my fist and try to breathe through, but I still thought I was going to vomit before I made it prenatal yoga.

Eck.

But I've also been sensitive to loud noises, getting annoyed quickly, especially when they repeat. This has made the road construction outside of work, which was followed immediately by the renovation of the suite directly downstairs from ours (still ongoing), maddening. Not to mention the noisy tracks under the Bay on BART. And our neighbors who have been building a greenhouse in their backyard for four years now (chainsaws at 9 am on a Sunday!). Gah! I wear earplugs a lot, but it only blocks out some of the volume.

I'm also not really into bright lights. This probably isn't pregnancy-related (longtime readers will remember my fondness for sunhats), but still.

And, lately, I don't like to be touched. I have an instinctive shake-or-slap-off reaction to being touched unexpectedly. This is perhaps a good thing (I dare a stranger to try and touch my belly without my permission -- they will almost certainly get smacked), but I do it without meaning to sometimes when Tim's just trying to be affectionate. Argh! Poor Tim! It's bad enough that I'm stressed out a lot and he gets the brunt of it, but then I accidentally shake him off when he tries to pat me lovingly? I am a horrible person.

Anyway, my point to all this is that all I have left is taste. Which, to be honest, was pretty picky before I got pregnant (I'm no longer a vegetarian, just a picky eater). Although I have been a little more willing to eat very high grade beef in small quantities lately, which is something I rarely did before the pregnancy.

But four out of my five senses seem to have changed dramatically, with the only purpose apparently to annoy me further when I'm already getting bigger and more uncomfortable every day. Meh! The things they don't warn you about!