When "Squares" Conspire
“Ferris, hurry up, sweetie. You’re going to miss the ‘Fifteen Seconds of Shame’!” Sebastian called out to his pregnant fiancée, who was in their cheap motel–like bathroom, weighing herself on an outdated floor scale.
“Damn, another five pounds,” she mumbled, cursing Sebastian for making her look like a walrus. “Coming, dear,” she said, her words laced with sarcasm. She ignored the full-length mirror attached to the door on her way out; she could not stand the sight of her reflection.
“You know I hate you for making me look like this.” She waddled to Sebastian’s side of their queen-sized bed, hands on her hips with her neck poked out like an infant bird waiting to be fed. She was in complete bitch mode.