Torn.

My favorite kind of pizza is not a common, every day kind. None of this pepperoni business. I like extra cheese with tomatoes on top--fresh, raw, juicy, yummy tomatoes. Because who wants cooked tomatoes on their pizza which already has tomato sauce (i.e. cooked and smashed tomatoes) on it? My apologies if you are someone who happens to like that... If said pizza happens to have a Papa Johns crust, so much the better! Yay for Starving Student cards! It's not that difficult really. All they have to do is make an extra cheese pizza and add tomatoes after they cook it. Which is what I ask for. Alas, the message often doesn't get through. Somehow, my delicious fresh tomatoes manage to find their way onto my pizza before said pizza finds its way to the oven. So, I've finally changed my tactics: "Can I get an extra cheese, and then have tomatoes on the side, please?" Sure, ma'am, we can do that for you. Now that I'm married, I have to get used to being called ma'am--I can't be upset about it anymore, right? I got my pizza Saturday night--Extra cheese with fresh, raw, juicy, yummy tomatoes sitting right on top. Sigh. Should I be annoyed that they didn't follow my instructions, or delighted that I FINALLY got my pizza just the way I wanted it?!?

Hit me baby...one more time!

My bladder is a punching bag.
My ribs are a xylophone.
There are times my belly turns oddly angular in places.
Comfortable is a thing of the past.
My stomach is so crammed that I have difficulty keeping anything inside of it.
I wake up in the middle of the night because my body has been thrown to the other side of the bed.

But a wise woman once told me that I will feel a little bit lonely once I no longer have a living creature within.
And the really weird thing is, I believe her! I'm really going to miss getting kicked, punched and rolled around in. Huh. Whoduhthunk?