Chapitre 5: Date: May 1, 1979
Dear Diary,
Date: May 1, 1979,
It's already been two months since my birth, and let me tell you, it's still not the most pleasant time.
I shit randomly. I imagine drinking and shitting together—and yup, I do that too! I intake and release simultaneously. (It's a legendary feat that only a few can accomplish!)
So, back to the topic: a lot has happened during these two months.
In the first week (I suppose it was on the 1st or 2nd day), someone started to say something in my ear when I was awake. Thankfully, I identified it as the azaan, so I knew I was born into a Muslim family.
In the first week, I was also brought back to what I suppose would be my house. (I still couldn't see properly at that time, but now I know.)
During the second and third weeks, I spent my time normally—mainly drinking, shitting, sleeping, and repeating.
But it was the fourth week when the most dreaded thing happened. Before that, let me tell you some good news: I'm thankfully reborn as a boy!
And now for the bad news: I am Reborn as a Boy!!!!
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So
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I'm getting circumcised again!!!
And it's fucking painful! (For everyone's info, only excess skin is removed; the sensitive part is not cut down.)
But still, it's painful! Thankfully, I'm a newborn, and I'm not that sensitive to anything. Can you imagine being an adult and getting circumcised? That would be a proper scene from a Saw movie!
I mean, the thought of lying there, fully aware of what's about to happen, and then BAM!—suddenly feeling the pain slice through you? I'd be screaming my head off. "Help! This isn't the kind of liberation I signed up for!"
So, yeah, I'm glad to be blissfully ignorant in my baby state. It's just a quick snip, and then back to the usual cycle of eating, shitting, and sleeping. Life's little perks, I guess!
By the fifth week, I could finally see everything around me—not perfectly, but enough to make out clear faces and shapes. It was like switching on the lights in a dimly lit room. Suddenly, I was aware of all the curious gazes looking down at me, and I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking.
By the sixth week, I was able to move my limbs and grasp things with my tiny hands. It felt like a superpower! I also started making sounds—gurgles, coos, and the occasional shriek that might scare the socks off anyone nearby. And let me tell you, I drooled. Oh boy, did I drool! It was like I was starring in some anime where the character sees delicious food and just can't contain themselves.
By the seventh week, I was stretching my arms like a champ! I have no idea how I managed that; I think maybe I was just a little too healthy for my own good.
Aren't babies supposed to start doing that around the ninth week or so? (You might ask how the heck I know this—thank you, ChatGPT, for the intel.)
I searched "what happens to a newborn baby week by week," and there it was, my answer!
My parents had started massaging me with oil by the second week, and let me tell you, it was the most comfortable experience of my life. Imagine being a tiny blob of joy, getting pampered with gentle strokes while drifting in and out of baby dreams. Pure bliss! Each massage felt like a mini vacation, making me forget about all the drama of being born, circumcised, and everything in between.
Life was good, and I was beginning to enjoy the perks of this whole baby gig.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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