There I was standing in the middle of Wal~Mart of all places, and I had a shopping cart that seemed to be filled with diapers, baby powder, a breast pump(which all of these are what most over sexed people have at home) jumpers(again…) Vaseline(need I say more?) blankets, etc, etc, etc…
As I look around to see if I am alone or with anyone, I hear from behind these words “ Sweetheart, what else do you think we need?” and just as I am going to turn around to see the person asking me this(which the voice is somewhat familiar but, I can not place it) I turn around only to find everyone I have ever dated, which started in grade school, and spans to 2010. Can you imagine my horror to find all these people standing there? As I stand there frozen like a margarita, and apparently round like one as well, it is then that one of my exes motions for me to look down. As I look down, I scream out “where the hell are my feet?” where in God’s name is my small waist? And my tata’s are like freakin melons! WTF?
I am pregnant!
How is this possible, I mean I know how this happens, but to Moi? I mean I would have to have sex in order to get pregnant, and the last I heard on this topic, this was impossible! So pleaseeeeeeeee someone explain who, what, where and why? ASAP!
Unless this is a gift from the BIG guy upstairs? This is like Mary, Madonna and the immaculate conception, the slip a mickey in Moi’s martini, the ole’ sneakin up from behind scam, or maybe this is simply just pure love?
Once I have calmed down some, enough to feel my overly large belly, which I must say, Moi looks awesome preggers! I have that “glow” about me, my outfit is adorable, which is a pair of red bibs, a white t-shirt, red and white striped shoes, my hat is red, and my manbag is a red gingham check Prada. I guess Prada custom designed this one for Moi!
As Moi is looking out over the crowd of past GF’s, BF’s, one nighters, one weekers, one mothers, LTR’s, and back up plans, I wonder who is my baby mommy or daddy?
Each one of the 101 candidates are standing there smiling, holding yellows roses in their hands, dill pickles, gelato, a martini, feather boas, etc. As I think to myself “wow, all this for Moi? I should have gotten preggers along time ago?”
I stand there looking at each one, trying to decide who the donor is? Who is responsible for this? Who is going to do the right thing by me and this kid! Oh, I hope it is someone I want, that is sexy, smart, wealthy, parent material, and loving. However if I must do this alone I will. And with that thought, I turn back around to face my cart, and begin to walk away when I get a tap on my shoulder. I hesitate to turn around to see who it is, I take in a sniff of their scent, ummmm it is familiar, I do likey it! And that is when it happens, this never ending pain in my lower belly, and the gushing wild trickles of liquid streaming down my inner thighs, dam! MYYYYYYY WATERRRRRRRR JUSTTTTT BROKEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And with that I try to turn around to look into the eyes of the “donor” but the pain is to severe and then I wake up!
Dam!
Don’t you just hat when that happens, Oh do I hate that. Will I ever know the face of the donor? Well at least I still have my figure, but I must admit, my clock is ticking and loudly! No need for an alarm clock in boudoir!
“A Dream Is A Wish You’re Heart Makes” - Cinderella
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