So here I am, pregnant with our second child and, I don’t mind adding, sick as a motherfucker. I am nauseated absolutely all of the time, but this has in no way hampered my nearly overnight transformation from a normal-sized person to a very fat person. I am suddenly and completely huge. Consuming roughly 80,000 calories per day, most of these in donut form, might explain this somewhat. I make no apologies. You try eating vegetables when you’re nauseous. I survive on preggie pops (nutritionally identical to dum dums, but with a well-groomed pregnant lady on the box) and the aforementioned donuts. A constant, bone-crushing thirst compels me to drink gallons of water a day, but alas, I do not poop. You are now up to speed on my health.

The baby has a nice healthy heartbeat. According to the nurse practitioner who did the ultrasound, the scene in my uterus is just splendid. I do not know what this means, except that there was much fuss over the aesthetic pleasantness of the whole thing.

I have now reached the end of my tolerance for looking at the computer screen while nauseated. Will now be watching several episodes of something very trashy on Netflix in a effort to forget my misery. There might be a popsicle involved.