streeeetch

somehow as i ballooned up i escaped the branding of stretch marks on my belly. yet somehow after i deflated they appeared bright red and unforgiving. three marks seared into my skin like a scratch from an irritated house cat. a reminder of a different time, a time when emotions ran wild, when anger, tears, laughter rolled together in one simple moment. i'll consider it a battle wound, a scar to be proud of, a fixture that will remind me of the one thing i never knew i wanted and the one thing i could never live without.

pathetic and pregnant

pregnant and feasting on a big mac. no, not a craving, just a lack of time and a sudden hunger pain. i sat in my car, with my nine month belly nearly touching the steering wheel. parked in the back of the lot, no one around, i opened the signature box and wrapped my fingers around the sloppy burger. at first bite, a car parked to my left. at second bite, a car parked to my right. are you kidding me? the lot is half empty, can i please eat my mac privately? already digging in, i deny my urge to move to another spot. continuing my quest to satisfy my hunger, i take another bite. and it happened, as i figured it would, special sauce dripping down my white winter coat. i get over it, wipe it off and take another bite. shit, it happened again, but now it's on my chin and fingers too. trying to wipe it up only spreads it further and my frustration grows. i wonder if my car neighbors are watching. i wonder what they are thinking. is my role as the pathetic pregnant woman oscar worthy? it has to be. tiny car, big belly, sloppy food and only one napkin.