So I just got back from my trip to Mexico. You know, I was down there eating the food, drinking the water, having promiscuous, unprotected sex with the natives. So, yeah, I picked up a little something. I'm now eating for two. I've got a tapeworm.
All my friends are getting pregnant, having babies and %#@!. I want to propagate, too, but I'm not one to commit. To hopes and dreams and goals and fun, they've all said their good-byes. I, too, am hosting a life, but I never compromise.
I like to drink and sometimes smoke, I like raw fish, I like to soak in Jacuzzis and hot tubs and whirlpools and hot springs. Sometimes I drink some wine and fall down the stairs, sometimes I drink some wine and fall up the stairs. My tapeworm no care.

Hey, Mom, it's official, I'm eating for two. Uh, no, I'm never getting fat. Yeah, I'm having a shower, I want stuff. I don't know when it's due, it's a $#&@ing tapeworm.
I like looking attractive with no clothes on. I like looking attractive with clothes on. (There's no such thing as a pregnant glow, you just look fat.) My tapeworm's not lame like a baby, my tapeworm puts me first as it should 'cause I'm a lady. I eat a lot, yet I'm still thin.
And I made up my mind, and I'm keeping my tapeworm. I think I'll call it Fernando.