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TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 26 2006
TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 26 2006
My feet have started looking like this by the end of the day—big, fat sausages. They don’t really hurt or anything, they just look like breakfast meat.

Anyway…

So vaguely creepy people hanging out on sidewalks have started predicting what sex my baby is. Not surprising, there is absolutely no consistency with their guesses. Same goes for the predictions of friends, family, and spouses. Nate thinks boy. His parents think girl. My dad doesn’t even bother saying “baby” anymore; he’s girl all the way. My sister feels the same, while Nate’s sister is on the boy bandwagon. Friends are split down the middle. Me? I have no clue whatsoever.
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