Torturer To Remedy (Short Story)

Nesting |Chapter 22|

{Lauryn Hill~ Nothing Even Matters (feat. D'Angelo)

FAITH'S POV🦋

Today we were running errands.

My lashes were refilled and I'd gotten a Brazilian wax because apparently I could very well go into labor any day now. I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant and I most definitely felt like it.

My days now consisted of resting. It had proven difficult to do normal everyday task since I was extremely imbalanced now, I moved at the pace of a tortoise, my back was killing me, including my hips, my joints ached, my ankles, feet, and legs stayed swollen, I'd resorted to eating ice chips due to my body temperature competing with the fiery pits of hell and I couldn't breathe to save my life. I felt like a humongous whale. It seemed liked I was always in some sort of pain or discomfort and I couldn't get comfortable. This was pure torture, and you mean to tell me some women just get pregnant because they're bored? Just for fun?

What the fuck is wrong with them?

My hospital bags were packed and now we were just waiting for Pebbles to decide when he wanted to make his appearance. Hopefully it was soon.

Gen had been dropped off for a play date which I was grateful for because my irritability was skyrocketing and I didn't want to snap at my baby.

I was currently chewing on ice in the passenger seat of Daddy's BMW as I'd just left the nail salon. I decided to go with short baby blue French tips and baby blue shellac toes in correlation with my baby boy. I didn't get stones or anything because I don't know when Pebbles is coming out of me and I don't want my nails scratching his delicate skin but I did get a cute little design pattern.

I adjusted my bra, hating the feeling of it against my skin. I think I'm gonna go braless after this. I don't want to restrain my boobs anymore. Savene keeps mentioning about having saggy breasts but aren't they gonna sag anyways? I mean after I'm done breastfeeding and if I decide to have more kids later on in life, and as I grow older? I think boobs are meant to sag.

And if they get too saggy, whereas I feel a way about it, then I'll just get Daddy to pay for me a boob job.

Problem solved.

I didn't want the embarrassment of my breast leaking while running errands but this damn bra was annoying me. As Daddy neared a red light, I stripped free of my cardigan placing my cup of ice in the cupboard before clicking the eject button for my seatbelt and leaning forward,"Can you unfasten my bra?"

He shifted the gear into parked before reaching over to undo the hooks. I let out a sigh of relief tugging down my spaghetti strapped dress and discarding the bra on the car's floor before pulling my dress back up slipping my straps back on along with my cardigan. Thank God for tinted windows. Daddy shifted the car back into drive resuming our route.

I fastened my seatbelt again making sure that it was secured around my round belly before reaching for my ice chips.

"Daddy?" I asked after swallowing my chewed ice.

"Hm?" He glanced over at me before averting his eyes back to the road, his hand coming up to turn the music down some.

"Would you pay for me a boob job? If I wanted it? You know like, if I started to feel a little insecure about them postpartum?" I questioned.

"You can get anything you want baby." He told me.

I smiled chomping down on my ice before continuing,"Do you think they'll be saggy, after I'm done breastfeeding?"

I watched his facial cues as the worry lines in his forehead creased and his eyebrows knit together into a frown.

"No." He shook his head,"You're mother didn't have saggy breasts after you. They were still perky."