The 6 Stages of an Inevitable Pregnancy Scare.

In case any of you had even a shred of respect left for me, I'll go ahead and squash that now. Listen, if you have a vagina and don't wear magic underpants or believe in waiting til marriage (props to you if you have this level of self-control... I can't tell a french fry "no", let alone a dick), you've had a pregnancy scare.

Pregnancy scares really evolve as you age.  At 17 you're talking with your betches over bags of Cool Ranch Doritos whilst watching The Real World Vegas and you're like "OMG, we were totes dry humping for like 3 minutes and a little of 'it' got on my jeans... I really hope I can't get pregnant from that."  By 30, you're using the "pull and pray" method after a bottle of wine, with one leg still in your sweatpants; hoping that he can afford either Plan B or some decent child support.  Oh, how we mature.  At this point in my life, I'm like "I really hope my baby is fat enough that I have to clean its rolls with Q-tips and I hope that we have enough money for him/her to wear baby Burberry".   Sometimes I even think about what Mother's Day presents I will get.  Because motherhood is selfless, guys.

I'm obvs not promoting unsafe sex, so everyone just calm the f*ck down.  We all know I lie to my gynecologist about my level of responsibility; but, keep it classy you assholes. Regardless, whether you're 7 or 35... here are the general stages of any pregnancy scare.

1. Groping yourself in public: A little PMS leads to some boobage growth.... but apparently... so does carrying a babe.  Our boobs growing is the equivalent to a man growing an extra dick... we want to touch them all the time.  At first you're like... "YES.  Check out my awesome rack, world!" but then you're like... "Nooo.... are these going to feed babies with teeth?  Are they going to touch my belly button in two years?" It's hard for us to keep our paws off them, and this essentially starts the downward spiral from "ooh boobies!" to "Oh f*ck, am I with child?"

2. Binge eating/constant hunger:  I could honestly live my life like a cow and be completely happy; just grazing all day mindlessly out of a tub of french fries or with a bag of Tostitos and faux nacho cheese; napping whenever the desire strikes me.  If I had the body type of #gisele, I'd be shoveling processed, gmo-laden foods into my face every hour, on the hour  Unfortch, I have more of a "good for snugs" body type; more to hold onto and a little extra for calming squeezes.  WHICH, will obvs make me a great mom.  If you're in the throes of a pregnancy scare (or an irrational mentally fabricated pregnancy scare, which constitutes 98.7% of all pregnancy scares) you will convince yourself that your constant hunger means you're eating for two.... and I don't mean you and a tapeworm.

3. Buying the test: Cue scary horror movie music.  First of all... why the f*ck do pregnancy tests cost more than my mortgage?  I'm pretty sure the profit margin on preggo tests is over 90% because those f*ckers know that a woman in peril will pay anything for peace of mind.  I'm surprised they don't make you sign over your first born before they give you that piss stick, worth $.02.  At least I'm at the age now where when I buy pregnancy tests, the acne-ridden teenage cashier thinks I want it to be positive.  Back in the day, purchasing one was more embarrassing than spilling an entire Plan B display during rush hour pharmacy hours (which I did 3 months ago... ).  Also, you have to make additional purchases with the test.  Otherwise, you look desperate.  In 2004, it was Cool Ranch Doritos and a Cosmo for the sex tips.  Now, it's some cheap wrinkle cream and a bag of chocolate chips.

4. Taking the test: The test will inevitably sit on the counter for at least 36 hours.  It will just stare at you and judge you for your wildly whore-y irresponsibility. Finally, you will give in and pee all over yourself and that little stick. Those packages are harder to get open than Dayquil liqui-gels while wearing mittens. Once you get that f*cker out of its package and piss everywhere, you will sit and stare at it while you drip dry... because no one has enough self-control to put that shit down and let it marinate for three minutes.... (I would be lying if I said I hadn't taken a test in the King Soopers ghetto restroom while the potential father was waiting in the shitty, attached Starbucks drinking a strawberry frappuccino playing Candy Crush.  #lifegoals)

5.  Denial:  Refuse to believe that you either a) are or b) are not pregnant.  So you take four more of the tests that cost more than one of Gwyneth's morning smoothies. Pregnancy tests are like Lays potato chips... you can never take JUST one.

6.  Accept the Psycho: Realize that you are, in fact, batshit crazy which has only been augmented by hormones and the rapid drop of all of estrogen from your beefy, bloaty, PMS-y body.  Eat the bag of chocolate chips you purchased and embrace the cramps that are now ripping your body apart like Bella Swan's vampire baby in the 19th Twilight movie.  Apologize to everyone who has been in your general vicinity for the past 48 hours, drink a bottle of wine, and pop some Midol.   Refund your boyfriend for his $17 strawberry frappuccino. You will never get back your dignity, or the $119 you spent on your new "just in case" Plan B supply and seven boxes of pregnancy tests.

Keep it classy, betches.

XOXO,

K