But, seriously, my nipples hurt.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, the first trimester graces you with boobs to rival Playboy, but it comes at a cost.
If so much as the wind hits them, they bleed and fall off.
I have spent the last 2 hours in my room trying to reduce the fabric touching to nipple ratio by creating some kind of Madonna cone system out of my bra, two Nyquil cups and some chewing gum. Proof I totally learned more in Girl Scouts than how to french kiss.
Plus, Ike’s post-cotial monsoon has flooded my basement…again. Which is fine, as there are people facing much worse than a basement knee deep in water, dirty laundry, spider carcuses and boxes of skinny clothes I totally can’t fit into anymore.
And, I would totally be down there helping my husband clean it up.
It’s just…my nipples hurt too bad.