PAM
I finish with the goalie and give strict instructions for Ibuprofen with alternating heat and ice as he gets off my table. Wincing as he hobbles out, he mutters something about not being sure whether to propose marriage or curse my name. Seems about right.
Georg was so weird though. It's sweet that he came down to greet me or whatever, but he was so frigging awkward. It was kind of cute, I guess. I don't know.
I head upstairs to meet Holly, who's big belly looks so out of place on her skinny little body. Crazy lady still ran miles until recently. She's fitter than most non-pregnant ladies. Show-off. She pushes herself up from her chair, her extremely efficient cubicle filled to the brim with photos of her and Evan now. They've made a happy life together in a very short period of time. It's sickening, really. Especially to women like me, who have no serious interest in settling down or finding "the one" or whatever.