I’m Not Pregnant, Just Blocked

Things have defeated me. I’m now helpless. If you see me quiet, just know things have defeated me.

From last week, I’ve been having a very big problem with my stomach — serious constipation. All home remedies have been working at a snail’s speed. Warm water with lemon… nothing. Crushed black lemon in warm water… nothing. One spoon of olive oil on an empty stomach in the morning… nothing. Vodka… nothing.

And the worst part? I’ve been moody and nauseated. I even suspected there was a visitor in my stomach but I didn’t know where it came from.

I told my boss that I might go to visit my father there up forever if we don’t take action because everything has failed. By 5 p.m. yesterday, I was in the hospital waiting lounge.

…

I’m from the lab, waiting for my results, and beside me are two ladies, seemingly in their early twenties. I’m chatting with the one who might be responsible for the “visitor” in my stomach, but the urge to get this gossip can’t allow me to focus.

Apparently, one of the ladies suspects she’s pregnant too. The test kits from the chemist indicated a negative, but she’s certain it’s wrong because she has all the symptoms of a pregnant woman. They’re plotting what to do in case it’s positive.

Lady 1 is the pregnancy suspect.
Lady 2 is her friend. The moral support and possible bad influence.

I’m trying so hard not to listen because I’m telling the owner of my visitor that if there’s really one in my stomach, he should know he’ll have the visitor six months after breastfeeding.

Let me just listen because the world already knows I’m a gossip. This is the last time I’m giving you gossip.

Lady 1: If it’s there, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m not ready to be a second wife or a mother.

Lady 2: Imagine it’s easy. You’re lucky your man has money. You won’t get any burden of raising a child. Think about the money. Imagine if he gives you upkeep of like 100K monthly?

Lady 1: That’s not the issue. Money isn’t everything. I’m still too young to be a mother. I don’t even have a job. What if he backs out? What will the baby eat? What if his wife tracks me down?

Lady 2: He can’t. He loves you. He gives you everything. You can be a baby mama and refuse to be his wife. Just take the money. If he backs out, we’ll take him to court and you’ll get good money for the baby.

Lady 1: I know this one. He’ll give me too many conditions before I get money from him. He can’t even send me money if he hasn’t eaten me. Never. If I request for money, he’ll request for a meeting first. This man can’t give a woman free money.

Lady 2: In such a case, he will. The baby is his. He’ll give free money whether he likes it or not.

Lady 1: You don’t know the man you’re talking about…

Lady 2: If I got such a chance, I’d get pregnant very fast. Then I’d ask for child support. Easy way out of poverty. I can’t let a rich man slip out of my fingers. I’d argue with the wife daily, but I’d get the money.

Lady 1: It’s easier said than done. Wait until you meet a man like mine… You see me with money and think I just made a call to get it. I spend hours with him for this pocket money. One year six months down the line, I’ve never received any money without lowering my trousers.

Lady 2: Then this is your opportunity. If I were you, I’d never let the chance go. This baby will never suffer — not with him as the father.

Lady 1: Mmmhhh… The baby might suffer more than me. I don’t know why my instincts have refused to trust him.

She has been summoned. I think her results are out. I’m left here looking at other patients, wondering what they’re suffering from.

That man in a blue shirt on the left probably had an accident because his legs have metal. The tall woman in white is crying — I don’t know whether she’s sick or visiting someone seriously sick.

Aaahh… but these two in front of me. Nooooo! These ones are the reason some of us will never heal fast. Why is the male doctor smiling lazily at the receptionist with the black wig? Why? Why this one with the wig and not the one with short hair, yet they’re equally beautiful? Something is cooking here. Let me observe.

Look at this receptionist pretending to type something serious while smiling like a student who just got her first crush. Heeee! The doctor has now leaned forward, whispering something. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can tell from that giggle that it’s not hospital-related.

See them! I knew it. Look at how she’s brushing her wig behind her ear like she’s shy. Shy of what?

The doctor is now showing her something on his phone. Aaaah, this one! He’s pointing at the screen and smiling. I can bet he’s showing her a date and time. You see that body language? That’s not a “check your blood pressure” kind of smile, that’s a “check your schedule, babe” smile.

This man! He’s smiling the same way my ex used to smile when he wanted to lie that he loved me. That slow, dangerous smile that says, “I’ll ruin your peace, but you’ll still call me handsome.”

See them pretending like it’s their first time talking. The doctor has now looked around probably to confirm no one is watching, but little does he know, this CCTV without wires (me) is fully operational.

And now, look! He’s walking back to his office all confident, and the receptionist is pretending to finish typing something important. It can’t be! Mmmhh… see her now following him after three minutes. Three minutes! Why three? Why not one? Why not five? You see, three minutes is that suspicious time frame when people pretend they’re not going to the same place but end up in the same corridor.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s official. Let’s hang our boots. Game over. The shift is ending, and so are their morals.

Let’s hang our white coats and wigs; the hospital has turned into a love zone.

Look! The two ladies are out. The lady isn’t pregnant! I know because she’s happy. Her friend — the one waiting to give birth for a rich man — looks disappointed. I wonder why she’s disappointed…

It’s my turn now.

Wait. I’m bringing the results. Just sit here. Don’t get tired. Watch TikTok as you wait.

I’m done.

Apparently, it’s just constipation. And the big news — I’m not pregnant. I told you people! I knew I can’t be pregnant now. I’ve been taking serious precautions.

Just wish me well with my stomach.