it’s come to that point.
My hips hurt. My back hurts. I’m out of breath. I don’t want to eat anything other than Little Debbie fudge brownies. I am tired of hearing “Oooh, you’re getting big! How much longer?” I am tired of being touched by strangers. My underwear does not fit. I have no patience, and my tolerance level for pretty much everyone has sharply dropped. Sleeping is a nice idea, but a difficult one to execute. I can’t shit, but I could pee all day. I have forty-seven things to do and the energy to do none of them. I don’t want to make small talk with you, co-workers in the breakroom/bathroom/hallway, unless you have Little Debbie fudge brownies. Again, please do not touch my stomach. I am due in a little over a month. I know, I look bigger and lower than that. It’s a boy, and no, I am not telling you his name, because I barely even know yours.
Lori said,
15 July 2008 at 7:21 pm
At least you’re pregnant. Can you imagine all of that and not even being pregnant. Wow, that would suck.
samsstories said,
15 July 2008 at 7:42 pm
I cannot WAIT until some strange person attempts to touch my stomach. They will pull back a stump. Have I mentioned magnesium for the shitting? I don’t know how much you can take at 8 months along, but it is worth asking your doctor. If only I could adequately describe the shit I took this morning. It was awesome. And now I feel like an asshole. But not enough to shut up, apparently. I hope the next month goes quickly for you.