One Hailey
I waddle out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, frowning slightly when the two ends of the towel don’t quite meet over my distended, basketball-sized stomach. Of course. Nothing seems to fit properly these days. My boobs are enormous and sore, my nipples sensitive. My stomach is hard and round, with silvery white stretch marks running up the sides. I put on this fancy skin oil I bought every night, but I’m not convinced it’s doing anything. My ankles are swollen, my feet ache, and I have to pee every forty-seven minutes.
It’s also July, and I’m about six weeks from my due date. It’s hot. I’m always hot. My fingers feel like sausages, and I’m never not sweaty and uncomfortable.