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I'm proud of my body. I only eat 1200 calories a day and I run every night. I know I look hot and sexy and my stomach is totally flat. Until I get pregnant with my dog's puppies, that is. As I start to show, and the morning sickness goes away, I can't stop stuffing my face full of food. Hamburgers and hotdogs and fried chicken. I'll eat enough for four adults and still be starving. But how can you blame me? I'm eating for eight now.
Genres:
One night while I was sitting on the couch stuffing my face full of an entire bag of fast food hamburgers, Brady came up and sat on the couch beside me. I shared some of my hamburgers with him, but I had eaten the vast majority, and when I saw all of the wadded-up wrappers piled on the table in front of me, I started to cry.
"What's wrong with me, Brady," I sobbed. "Why can’t I stop eating?"
I looked into Brady’s kind eyes and suddenly was filled with a thought that didn't make any sense, but somehow I knew was true.
I was pregnant with Brady's puppies.
I decided that night that I wouldn't go back to work the next day. In fact, I would take a leave of absence and stay home, away from the horrible women at work and all the people who would be asking questions about my growing belly. About who the daddy was.
READ MORESo for the next six months, that's exactly what I did. I ordered food online and had it delivered. Bags of hamburgers and pizzas and fried chicken, as well as boxes and boxes of groceries almost every single day. I was so glad that I had saved up my money because there was no way I could have done it without my savings.
And there was no way I could have done any of this without Brady. He was such an awesome dog. He took care of me all that time, keeping me company and keeping me from being depressed about my body. In fact, he seemed to love my body. He would lick every inch of it every night, especially my giant belly.
COLLAPSE
