The Love, Blood, and Rhetoric School

Because I am so sick of hearing pregnant women bitch about stretch marks, I am going to inflict my thoughts on people.

Mine entertain me to no end. It's like finding pictures in clouds. If I get bored, creative, and twisty enough, I can make it look like they're talking. (Perhaps I should not be sharing this with the world at large, but powers such as mine should not go unheralded. Plus it's really funny. Seriously, if you are in whelp as well, give it a try. It's like prenatal yoga, but with a more immediate pay-off.) Granted, I'm not sure why I have stretch marks on the front of my thighs, but then I'm about 23-24 weeks along and only since the beginning of the month do I look like there might possibly be a baby in my abdomen instead of my legs and backside.

My favorites are the ones on the outside of my hips. They have this variegated colors thing going, from bright red at the tops fading down to whitish. It's like the flames people paint on the sides of cars.

I am a human hot-rod. My stretch marks just make me look like I'm going faster.