"Hmm thanks, erm I think?" I blushed."Let me look at you, give us a twirl?"Still a little unsteady in the heels I slowly spun as he wanted."Wow, just ... few final touches and you'll be the belle of the ball."From beside him he produced a couple of jewellery boxes telling me,"These were my mothers pearls."I felt a shudder of humiliation as his hands touched my shoulders andlifted my 'hair' away from my neck to fasten a string of pearls roundmy neck. Chuckling he spun me round to face him and. My feet hurt, my back ached, I felt tired, bloated and miserable. Of course, I felt that way long before hitting the mall. Being eight months pregnant can do that to a girl. Make that an unmarried, pregnant girl. Of course, I’m no girl either, although it does seem like I stopped growing a lot sooner than the owner’s manual told my parent’s to expect. In her infinite wisdom, Mother Nature decided five-foot nothing was more than enough for Becky Miller to handle. So there’s not a whole lot of me. More

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