Stretchmark.
It snuck up on me out of nowhere. I mean, they really do come out of nowhere. One day you're perfectly happy, living a perfectly stretch-free life, and then BAM. There you are. Staring in the mirror at your left hip, while a dark red eye-sore of a stretch mark stares right back.
Or maybe that's just me, last Tuesday.
It's not like I have a fetus developing in my love-handle. And it isn't like they are getting exponentially larger as to need a stretch mark to facilitate my fat. It just, arrived. Uninvited. Unexpected. Tuesday.
I can now imagine my stretchy red tiger-striped stomach 5 months from now. All stretched out and saggy. I can only cross my fingers and hope that it's not as bad as I am imagining it will be.
That, or stop looking in mirrors.
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