My little sister is pregnant. My little sister who practically shared a womb with me and read the messages that I carved into our mothers used, used Uterus is my Womb Mate. We're tight. We're close. I'm pretty sure between the two of us we could beat up a cancerous, dying bear. We're just that good.
She's due in August. She's four months pregnant but she looks like all she managed to do was eat a giant sandwich and it gave her stomach gas but it wasn't that bad she had to undo her pants. That's what her baby is. A gassy, sandwich mass.
When she excitedly told me that she was posting her stomach pictures on Facebook and I had to Go! Look! At! Them! Right! Now! and about two hours later I looked at them.
And then I called her.
And laughed at her. For ten minutes.
I totally judged her because she took her "Belly" Photo's in her boot room. I asked her if she had a giant lunch before these two photo's. I even asked her if she was just puffing her stomach out just a little. I'm kind of afraid that my Niece or Nephew is going to be born like a super small Thumbalina or...a giant turd.
I don't think my family is prepared for the first grandchild to be a giant turd.
She also has a "Hormonal Countdown" that she uses as an excuse whenever she starts getting annoyed. You annoy her three times, it's strike out and you better watch out. Unless you threaten to take away all the gifts that were bought for the baby and then she shuts up.
I can't wait for this baby or turd to be born because I'm going to be the Auntie that teaches him/her how to say Colonoscopy instead of "Juice Box". Or Pap Smear instead of "cookie".