Guest Writer: Lauren Manuel


This started from Lauren joining a facebook group.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, PROMISCIOUS?!” I choked in disgust.

Running out the surgery, the nurse chased me, quick on her feet, she cornered me. I was breathing quickly, panting at the least. All I could see was rage on her face. Green eyes turning red, nostrils flaring. I knew it, I was about to be stabbed. She brushes my arm with the cotton bud, cleaning my skin for the awful jab of pain. And then, BAM. I was gone. Ridded on the flu for the whole of 2010.

We all know the story, when the crazy lady wanting to stab you with a needle simply so you don’t get a little cough and a few sore bones. Then they ask the same question, year after year.
“Are you pregnant?”

I am ever tempted just to say, “Yea, can’t you tell? I feel like whale.”

But sense knocks into me before the words roll off my tongue.

Next time I’ll ask them if they’re pregnant back.

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