My whores are moaning

You know, I really ought to preface this post with an apology to everyone reading who wants to be pregnant and isn’t, or to everyone who will never, ever be pregnant, or to people entirely without female reproductive organs, but I’m not going to. I’m pregnant and I’m going to write about it a lot here. If it upsets you in any way, it’s purely unintentional and I compassionately advise that you stop reading and maybe check back in a year or so. xxoo, Erica

I’m pretty pissed at my hormones right now. Here’s a detailed (and incomplete) list as to why:

1. I have a fucking fever blister. Nothing like a pregnant waitress with herpes bringing your dinner. YUM!
2. The nausea is awful. Have I mentioned that I work around food? Again, YUM!
3. My nipples have been on red alert for 10 days straight.
4. My boobs are heavy and sore and I hate them.
5. I’m pretty sure it was my hormones that tricked me into thinking getting pregnant again was a good idea. They even forced me to romanticize the experience! I pictured myself with an ethereal maternal glow, lovingly cradling my round little belly. WTF? I mean, really, Erica? Who’s dumb enough to fall for that? Me, that’s who.
6. Again with the nausea.

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