Flickr photo by ishaneI'm considering putting my body out on Craigslist for rent.
Don't worry, it's not what you think. I'm not ready for the sex trade.
I'm going for the other side of the sheets.
The way I see it, my post-pregnancy bod has the makings of the world's best birth control.
Think about it -- when you're still pretty, hot, and tempting, bright red stretch marks and tube-sock boobs are enough to set that tummy a roiling.
And any pregnant woman in the throes of morning, noon, and night sickness can tell you that nausea and blow jobs do not mix.
Other stops on the tour:
1. My crooked boobs, accompanied by a lecture on finding bras that accommodate one boob that's larger than the other ...
2. My ass. Notable not only for its size, but the now silvery stretch marks running across it ... the stretch marks my husband failed to mention were spreading during my pregnancy when only he could get a glimpse of the enlarging trunk.
3. My cha cha. No in-depth look necessary, but a how-to on the stretching process for pushing out that watermelon-sized baby from that pert little hole should suffice, don't you think?
Folks, I'll do bridal parties, sweet 16s -- heck, you can send me over to the in-laws so your mother-in-law will shut her yapper about grandbabies.
OK, probably not ... but if the writing job ever goes south ... hey, a girl's got to have options, right?