𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [slow updates]

𝟏𝟖

CINDY

Everything is changing, and I wonder if I like that or not, because up until a couple of months ago, I was cozy. I was comfortable and in love with my life, with my fiancé—my everything.

And well, now? I'm buying a dress for an event meant for rich people with my mother, looking at my phone and then at dresses so that I can find the perfect thing to match Levin's suit.

What the hell had happened? How did I wake up to all this?

Lastly, why do I not want to wear something comfortable?

Before, what I wanted was comfort. In my clothes, my shoes, my life. But right now, all I can think about is how hot I want to look.

I've never seen a pregnant woman as far along as I am get all dressed up and sexy, and all of that. And oh, God. That just makes me want to get the hottest, most uncomfortable, hugest heels I can find.

I want to be a hot pregnant woman. I want to show people that those exist.

Oh, no. No. No.

I've always hated the attention I got when I was with Tommy, but now I'm thinking about if I want to bask in it when Levin and I—

"Cindy?"

I'm so fucking confused.

My mom's fingers graze my shoulder, instantly snapping me out of my thoughts. Out of my caffeine-high thoughts.

I shake my head and smooth my hands over this plain white dress she's picked out for me. It's cute, simple. Everything I don't want.

Maybe I shouldn't have come to this. Maybe I should call my doctor too. I shouldn't be consuming this much caffeine in my current... very pregnant state.

"Sorry, sorry. I just... I want something so different from this, and I hate that. What I want to get is so unlike me, and I don't know if—"

Mom cuts me off with a laugh. "Breathe, babe. Okay? Just go look for something you like, and try it on. See what feels right."

Before I can protest, tell her it would be dumb and, quite frankly, weird, she pushes me toward the rack of dresses against the way.

It's moments like these when I wish she was a terrible parent. It would make things so much easier on me. Really, it would.

❄︎❄︎❄︎

Fifty dresses, three snacks, one lunch, and eight shoe try-ons later, we're back at the house. My parents' house, that is.

Dad's at my house, repainting one of the walls in the nursery. I don't want there to just be a mess of the old paint and new paint on that single wall. Obviously, the chemicals aren't exactly ideal to be inhaling at the moment too, so I'm hanging out with my mom and the boys.

Gosh, it's so weird having to say the boys and Eryn. Never thought that would ever be... a thing, I guess. Now it is, and sometimes I wonder how I haven't gotten used to it yet.

Cole is reading Eryn to sleep, Dahlian is with his girlfriend, and Mom is taking a shower before we watch a movie.

I'm sitting in my old room, sifting through the bags of overpriced shit we bought today. I got candles, clothes and blankies for the unnamed child vacating my uterus, some new underwear because apparently my boobs aren't the only thing multiplying their original mass by ten tons.

My hips, my ass, my boobs—growing. Widening, expanding. I have the body I dreamed I'd grow to have (minus the baby bump thing, obviously) when I was in middle school, except now I don't want it.