My cat has placebo kittens.
We have friends with allergies so our cats are strictly outdoors creatures. Occasionally they breech the back door defences and invade the house seeking out hiding places to latch themselves onto like barnacles with claws. Most of the time we are able to remove them before they urinate on something or contaminate all the uncovered food items on the counter. Sometimes we look right past them if they stealthily hide in the middle of the room or on top of a chair - just below eye level, not where cats ought to be hiding. No matter how many times we throw them out, they just keep coming back.
One of our cats is a dainty little black female. She is very friendly, especially for a feline, but far too intelligent for a creature of her size.
We give special attention to pregnant animals. She must know this. For the past several months she has taken to eating enough to get her belly bloated and sitting by the back door mewing incessantly till someone takes notice of her. We let her in, recalling how there was a strange neighborhood cat in the yard a few weeks ago and thinking maybe they got frisky and we'll have kittens in another few weeks. She settles quickly into the luxuries of the indoor life, gloating at the cats outside, lording it over them - her new found position. All is well until the third day when she contaminates the bag of potatoes on the pantry floor and the fat suit is gone. She is thrown out with the other cats and dogs and we promise ourselves that we'll never to fall for that trick again.

Two weeks latter its raining and there she is, mewing at the door, bulging around the belly. A few days later, there's a distinct odor wafting through the kitchen from the pantry. Never again.

Well, here we are again - not willing to risk banishing a pregnant creature - willing to accept the possibility of placebo kittens in our potatoes.

I want to talk with Eve back when she left Eden.
I spent most of yesterday throwing up my stomach lining and going into shock induced paralysis all because "it's that time of the month again". I will spare the other gruesome details for your sake.
It was magical really, in the same way many curses are magical. One moment I am taking the trash out, the next I feel like I am dying. I know that I am not. I know that it is simply a flood of hormones telling my uterus, "time's up, no baby this month". I don't think my body likes to hear that very much. The spasms begin with such violence I have no opportunity to rehydrate and soon I go into shock.
The experience gets bad enough that I begin to fantasize about cutting parts of me out, or abusing drugs till something works, or getting a sex change... that only makes things worse. I try to bless my body and reassure it that there is no need to flip out like this. I chose to love my over reacting insides. Useless. I resign myself to ride out the waves of over concentrated hormones with as much dignity as a victim of food poisoning can muster. I decide to cope.
I wonder how Eve dealt with it. The first time she realized her body was different out of Eden did she want a sex change? Or did she accept with joy the suffering that comes along with being a life bearer? I'll have to talk with her soon, cause this is getting ridiculous.

An explanation for these posts>
I have a difficult time writing.
I want to write better.
I have been told that if I write often about everything it will get easier.
She says if I write for an audience - even if they never read it - my writing will get better.
So here I am conducting the writing experiment. I will write about everything and everything that I write I write for you.