Pregnant

What a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into. Just came from the doctor’s office. I was going to get a pedicure, but I need to cancel it. All I want to do right now is go home and crawl into bed.

How could this happen? Well, of course I know how it happened. Six weeks ago, that’s all it was. Just that one time, I swear! If only I’d made him use a condom, I wouldn’t be in this fix now. Now I’m going to be carrying … carrying … this THING inside of me. How long will it be before I’m released from this burden? It’s going to be a rough few years ahead, dealing with this. All from just a single moment of passion.

Men, you can’t trust them. He said he was okay, that we didn’t need a condom. They always lie, just like in “The Women.” Can’t trust a man, wish I could be one of those women with their Jungle Red fingernails. All I’d have to do to be happy is get a divorce. Hell, I never even got married – and now I’ve got to carry this pox inside of me, probably to full term. I’d love to get rid of it, but I just can’t.

That’s the last time I’ll ever let a man screw me … at least without a condom. All it takes is once, that’s what they always said and I didn’t believe them. And now I’m carrying HIV. Mama told me this might happen when I told her I was gay.

You know what, I’ll get the pedicure after all. I’ll tell them to do it in Jungle Red.