you could hope for some substance as long as you like
Let the record show that pregnancy sucks.
Pregnancy is puking and sore boobs and headaches and chronic congestion and misery; pregnancy is spending every day in A&F sweatpants and stealing previously worn t-shirts from Will; pregnancy is never having a social life because you’re either too fucking tired or you’re too busy puking everywhere and everything hurts and everything sucks.
These days, things were better. After a bout with the flu, Dr. Halpern had hooked Coco up with some Zofran and that little white pill had changed everything -- or at least limited the amount of time her head had spent against the porcelain.
The rest of it? Well, she was working on it. Her energy was slowly returning, the aches and pains were finally starting to subside, and according to all the literature, if fate was kind, she’d finally start feeling like a normal person again in just a few weeks. (For a few months. I mean, at a certain point she was going to get so big that shit was just going to get all sorts of uncomfortable but hey -- positive thinking, right?)
Thankfully, today was one of those better days. She kept her breakfast down, she showered, she got dressed, and she put her make-up on. For the first time in weeks, she was finally starting to look like herself again; a little thinner in the face and a little rounder in the mid-section, but very Coco and that’s what mattered most.
Now, if only the rest of the day would go so well. Like, you know. Maybe the traffic could let up ‘cause they had lunch reservations at noon and not only is it likely that Leif and Adler are already waiting for them, but Coco’s fucking starving.
Running late. Ps. Please order me a strawberry lemonade.
Pregnancy is puking and sore boobs and headaches and chronic congestion and misery; pregnancy is spending every day in A&F sweatpants and stealing previously worn t-shirts from Will; pregnancy is never having a social life because you’re either too fucking tired or you’re too busy puking everywhere and everything hurts and everything sucks.
These days, things were better. After a bout with the flu, Dr. Halpern had hooked Coco up with some Zofran and that little white pill had changed everything -- or at least limited the amount of time her head had spent against the porcelain.
The rest of it? Well, she was working on it. Her energy was slowly returning, the aches and pains were finally starting to subside, and according to all the literature, if fate was kind, she’d finally start feeling like a normal person again in just a few weeks. (For a few months. I mean, at a certain point she was going to get so big that shit was just going to get all sorts of uncomfortable but hey -- positive thinking, right?)
Thankfully, today was one of those better days. She kept her breakfast down, she showered, she got dressed, and she put her make-up on. For the first time in weeks, she was finally starting to look like herself again; a little thinner in the face and a little rounder in the mid-section, but very Coco and that’s what mattered most.
Now, if only the rest of the day would go so well. Like, you know. Maybe the traffic could let up ‘cause they had lunch reservations at noon and not only is it likely that Leif and Adler are already waiting for them, but Coco’s fucking starving.
Running late. Ps. Please order me a strawberry lemonade.