Mother Nature To Host New Season Of Punk'd!

I knew I was pregnant long before the second line turned pink. I knew it the same way that I always know to pick the slowest lane at the grocery store. I knew it even though I didn't feel it, necessarily. How I felt was bloated, moody, narcoleptic, and manic- so let's just say that with that inconclusive list of symptoms, pregnancy was taking the easy way out. At that point, I hoped I was pregnant, because I don't think straight jackets are very flattering to my figure. (Well, neither is pregnancy, come to think of it.)

The test was more of a formality- a rite of passage. As the nurse sat with me in the claustrophobic office, I entertained the thought that maybe, maybe as the nurse was calculating my due date with that little wheel thingy, maybe, maybe Ashton Kutcher would burst into the room, knocking over the racks of phamplets about STDs and birth control options. Maybe the nurse is actually Ashton in disguise. Maybe there's a hidden camera behind the life-sized diagram of the female reproductive system. No, no Ashton Kutcher. No hidden camera. Just a plastic vagina on the desk, and baby in my belly.