Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg (000_hester_000) wrote,
Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg

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Holy flying fetuses, Batman!

I am shocked. Like, seriously, I am shocked. It's as if I just found out that the earth was flat. All right, so this is what I had always believed was true:

1. When we were in eighth grade was the first time that ʎ. was pregnant. I definitely remember her being pregnant the day that she, N., and I wandered off and N.'s and my parents had no idea where we were and ended up calling the cops to look for us. [ʎ.'s mom knew where we were but was too much of a crazy mofo to be able to explain it to anyone else.] Anyway, I remember us walking around a local mall and hanging around outside David's Bridal because ʎ. was super excited about being pregnant and she said she was going to marry the baby's father, Tom. What I heard eventually happened was that either A. ʎ.'s mom took her to get an abortion, or B. Tom told her he would only marry her if she got one, and she was so stupid that she believed him and did so, after which he dumped her.

2. A little while later, I think it was at N.'s fourteenth birthday party, ʎ. showed up pregnant again; she was really showing and everything. Apparently she later miscarried.

3. I also remember a time when ʎ. thought she may have been pregnant when she was 15, but no one was ever sure about that, including her.

Okay, now here's the thing. All of the above turns out to be utterly false. It turns out that actually, ʎ. didn't even lose her virginity until she was 16, and as far as she knows has never been pregnant. The first time she wasn't really showing, and the second time apparently she sewed part of a pillow into her shirt-- which I guess explains why she wouldn't go swimming with the rest of us that day.

But still. Holy shit. My brain broke, seriously.

The pathetic part is that N. lost her virginity when she was 12 because she thought that all of her friends already had, and then it turned out that none of them actually did.

All right, I'm actually really happy right now, though, because I just finished a giant paper of doom that I had outstanding from the semester; now all I need is to finish up the calc, which I ought to enjoy, and I'll finally be done. I was completely freaking out about writing it; I ended up lying in bed crying for hours this morning-- but in a weird way, I think that's a good thing, because I always used to be like that: I would put things off, spazz out at the last moment, and then eventually get it done in the end. Recently, I've been more like, "Hm, I really need to do that today. Oh well," and never do it; I think that was a result of the meds, so presumably this means they're finally out of my system. Plus, now I'll never have to see the name Imre Nagy again. Which is good, because every time I do see it, my brain turns Nagy into naga. And then I'm like, 'Lol, Hungarians wanted a naga to be in charge of their country???'

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