Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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The Bounty That Is My Bosom

Serge has been extremely solicitous throughout this pregnancy. All seven and a half weeks of it. He takes me to buy shakes at Arctic Circle, bought out the entire morning sickness remedies section Whole Foods had for sale and even cleaned the bathroom. Kind of.

Last night, after fixing me a tray of snacks including saltines, ginger snaps and sliced strawberries he was reading me snippets from the horror novel that is What To Expect When You're Expecting and it went something like this:

"Studies show nearly three quarters of all expectant woman experience the nausea and vomiting associated with morning sickness, which means little more than 25 percent of moms-to-be don't. If you're among those who never have a nauseous moment, or who feel only occasionally or mildly queasy, you can consider yourself not only pregnant but also lucky. Also, let your husband touch the bounteous breasts that pregnancy has provided as often as possible. He is very much a part of this pregnancy and the more he can touch---"

"What? It doesn't say that!"
"It does, right here" he says with a shit-eating grin.

Ooooh. That's all for today. The term shit-eating just did me in. Now even words are causing me to retch my spleen through my nose. And the smells! Too much smelling of all the smelly smells! If I were a superhero I'd be SMELLING WOMAN.