Page 202 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
There was no way.
Quickly, I spread my legs and lowered my head, getting a good look at my vagina. Did vaginas morph into baskets when they were hiding something inside? Holding everything together?
Standing up, I opened my robe and stood to the side in front of the mirror, examining my body. Legs were the same, thighs were the same, stomach . . . poochy.
Poochy!
My right hand ran over my belly, taking in its expansion.
Oh. My. God.
A light knock rung through the room, signaling me to shut my robe before the door opened. Dr. Nesbum appeared at the door with a giant smile on his face.
“Rosie, it’s nice to see you.”
I didn’t greet him; I didn’t even try to hide the desperation in my voice. “Can people be allergic to penises? To the point that their stomach swells?” I grabbed his shoulders and shook them, looking for answers. “Does too much penis make you bloated?”
“Excuse me?”
“Please tell me I’m allergic to my boyfriend’s penis and have had swelling in my stomach from infection.”
My robe flapped open, Virginia on display, but I didn’t bother to shut things up. I was looking for answers, desperate for them.
“How about you sit down and we can talk,” he answered, peeling my hands off his shoulders.
Nurse Scale Nazi walked in, scanned me up and down, and shook her head, as she handed the doctor a paper. He looked it over and nodded, placing the paper in my file.
“How have you been feeling, Rosie?”
I flopped my body on the table, propped my legs in the stirrups, giving the doc a full-frontal. Robe hanging open and arm over my eyes, I said, “Just give it to me straight. Tell me I’m that idiot who should be on the show about how they are nine months pregnant and didn’t know it.”
He rolled toward me in his squeaky-wheeled chair. “I wouldn’t say nine months pregnant, but you are most definitely with child. Your urine test came back positive.”
And there it was, the word I was trying to avoid.
Pregnant.
Holy hell, I was pregnant.
“I had sex,” I mumbled, bewildered. “It was supposed to be for fun, so I could learn how to stop writing about throbbing man swords and lap broccoli. It was supposed to welcome me to my adult life and connect me with another human being. I wasn’t supposed to be able to procreate.” I sat up and questioned Dr. Nesbum. “Are you sure I’m not allergic to the penis? I’ve had a lot of sex, like an unhealthy amount of sex, like if I wasn’t sitting on a couch, I was sitting on his penis.”
I could tell Dr. Nesbum was uncomfortable with my candidness, but I didn’t care. I needed answers.
“I can assure you, you’re not allergic to any penises.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, raising my voice. “You haven’t even looked at my vagina yet.” The baby must have taken over my movements, because before I knew what was happening, I palmed the doctor’s head and pushed it toward my crotch, forcing him to observe Virginia. “Go ahead, tell me I’m not allergic to penises. Look at the purple flaps.”
His hands gripped the bottom of the table and pushed against my firm grip. “Miss Bloom, I’m going to ask you kindly to release my head from your crotch.”
His sentence registered and mortification took over. A nauseating feeling came over me, and instead of demanding answers, I curled up into a ball and started rocking back and forth on the table.
“This can’t be happening.”
“Rosie, I’d like to discuss this with you.”
“What is there to discuss?” I asked, my voice full of sorrow. “I’m pregnant, my boyfriend is never home, and honestly, I’m not even sure how committed he is to me, given the fact that Tasha has been probably flopping her boobs on his desk every day. She’s so pretty, and here I am, frumpy girl whose yoga pants barely fit. What’s a girl to do?”I’m sure the words sounded stupid, but they actually felt logical in my brain. He was never home. He looked at pretty Tasha all day. I was frumpy.Period.
“If you sit up, we can discuss options.”
