I’m fifteen and pregnant…with a food baby

I am not ashamed to say it. I am pregnant, and it is all my fault.

It was just one of those nights where your parents decide to bring out all your favorite foods to waste those two hours you spent at the gym. (I’m wondering if watching me struggle makes them happy…) So, long story short, I found myself pigging out on my mom’s paella and callos. (My mom was working around a spanish theme, she just came back from Madrid)

I probably stuffed myself too much because this morning I woke up with that awkward collar of sweat in the morning even though you are not using a blanket and the fan is pointed directly at you. It’s pretty much the worst sign you can get that just screams “You are fat and unhealthy” but oh well, life goes on. It was probably the most amazing paella I have ever had.

So, if you have children reading this, I suggest you send them out now. I am about to tell you how I got impregnated by paella.

…

I got home at around 5 o’ clock from the gym, and there was this strange, tomato shrimpy smell wafting through the house. I walked over to the kitchen and sitting in a wide, oven safe pan was the paella.

It was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. Perfectly round succulent and juicy pieces of chorizo. Butterflied shrimps with their two sides spread wide open, presenting it’s juicy insides to me. A perfectly golden wet skin of rice. All of this scantily clad in lemon and bellpeppers.

Next thing I knew, I was looking down at it, ready for it to be stuffed inside me. Anticipating the hot rice sliding down my throat.

…

Then I woke up this morning. I had the world’s largest baby (paella) bump and a nagging pain in my stomach telling me I was about to give birth. I ran to the bathroom as fast as I could. Sweat was dripping from my forehead. I pushed and pushed and pushed, then finally. Plop. It was all done.

I decided not to name my bastard food baby, I didn’t want to get too attached.