I don’t understand how someone can not know they are pregnant. There is probably a happy medium between knowing the second your embryo splits, and giving birth on a toilet in a Sbarros. But to have no idea makes no sense. I am possibly the person least attuned to my own body. I once walked around for a week with my shoulder twisted behind my neck before a stranger on the bus pointed out that it was probably dislocated. Well into my 30s, I still get surprised by my period. And yet I knew I was pregnant pretty soon after it happened. Here were some of my clues:
1.) I began scarfing down french fries and Cool Whip like it was my job.
2.) I sobbed uncontrollably at the Nationwide commercial where the man thinks his car is a giant baby.
3.) My father asked if I’d stopped going to the gym.
4.) Naturally, I had just purchased a case of wine.
5.) The five tests I took all said “pregnant.”
To be fair, I kept taking the tests because I liked seeing the word “pregnant.”
In four months, ask me again how I feel about that word.