This is my mantra today. I'm the last one standing in this house and I refuse to cave. After watching me get showered with regurgitated water (thank you, Ragsy), my mom promptly ran for the bathroom and barfed, too. As the resident pregnant woman, I should be the most susceptible to gastronomic distress. But apparently not.
It's funny, though. Now that my mom has vomited, she's back to speaking about rich foods that, strangely, make me feel like barfing, too. Now, what time are you coming over?
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