Tapping

I was on the phone at work today, talking to a secretary about sending out a FedEx. As she was talking, I felt this odd little tapping, like someone was lightly drumming their fingers on the inside of my stomach. Or popping popcorn. Or bursting soap bubbles.

“OH!” I shouted, as I realized what it was.

Being the smooth professional that I am, I gracefully picked up the conversation where we had left off.

“Whoever actually sends the baby will need to sign the proof of service,” I continued.

There was a confused silence until I figured out what I’d just said.

“I’m sorry, the package. Whoever sends the package. Not the baby. Sorry.”

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16 week picture of yours truly below. Do not scroll down if this will upset you. Also upsetting (beside the whole pregnancy aspect): 1) that I’m a terrible photographer; and 2) that someone doesn’t shut their dresser drawers. TAMMY.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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I hate to have to break this to you all, but I am in fact headless in real life.  Shocking, I know.

Also, if you look closely (you pervs) that is not a pseudo pen.is occupying my pelvis, but the place where the panel and regular pant material meet and get all bunchy. Although a pseudo peni.s would explain my difficulty getting pregnant…