Gimme back my baby!
Gimme back my baby!
Lydia Fairchild had a baby, that seemed normal. Because of a divorce she applied for welfare and part of the process was matching the DNA of the baby to the mother. Bingo no match, in fact her DNA did match either of her other children either. Not only was this crazy because the hospital staff were the ones that delivered the baby, but the state was going to take her children away from her and charge her with fraud. It turned out that Fairchild was a “Chimera”. Chimeras had started out as twins; in the early stage of pregnancy, one of the twins had merged with – been absorbed by, the other twin. The cells of the consumed twin, however, did not disappear and remained alive in one concentrated area of their sibling’s body. Once the medi-sleuths discovered her split DNA identity the case was dropped and she got to keep her children.
This pregnancy test I just took confirmed my worst fear.
I’m just fat.
“Give me a sentence about a public servant,” the teacher instructed her second-grade student. “The fireman came down the ladder pregnant,” he answered. “Umm … Do you know what pregnant means?” “Yes,” said the boy. “It means carrying a child.”
What’s the difference between a nine-month pregnant woman and a supermodel?
Nothing—if the pregnant woman’s partner knows what’s good for them.
Two blondes meet, one says: “I did a pregnancy test today.”
The other one: “Was it hard?”