Halle, pregnancy

death by crackah.

Any time I say the word I always picture a blingged out gangsta call me one. So I had to pass along that little visual. You are welcome.
I have polished off my 3rd box of crackers in a week. Whoa Blimpie. And I really wonder why my thighs are getting all blubbery?
Just a quick update for everyone who is biting their nails on the sidelines re: my m/s. {insert sarcasm}
I am alive-barely. It has been a really tough week. Started out AMAZING. Mon/ Tuesday felt like a champ. Yesterday I was flat on my back for the whole day. Sick/ nauseous, pink eye, and other girl issues.  Oh the joy! I am pretty sure my husband is just totally fed up with me. I look like something a cat threw up all day, every day. and when I am not moaning and rocking myself to sleep, I am trying to not barf up crackers. Even though most of you say I “should”. I would feel “so much better”. I call the bluff. My nose doesn’t shut off properly for take off, (if you know what I mean), so I will never feel better after upchucking.

Back to my husband. He is my all star. I am so thankful to have someone who can love me and take care of me like this. Because I would, but I’d give the side eye. And huff and puff. I am super mature like that.

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