It’s almost as if this little boy was trying to fool me. He thought that if he gave me a little nausea and caused my skin to break out like a rebellious pizza-eating-teenager that I may believe all the old wives tales and think him to be a girl. The funny part is that as soon as I unveiled his little secret, my skin mysteriously cleared up. What a little jokester. I have a feeling I better play my cards right with this one, he’s a mischievous one already.
So yes, the celebration may begin. My skin is clear. Can I get a collective hip hip hooray. Hip hip hooray. Hip hip hooray. I feel much better now that I’m not spending my evenings in front of the mirror performing toilet-side procedures that end in anguish and despair. My dear pregnancy gods, please tell me those days are behind me for good.