The idea for this one came from a friend!
But you know it's happened to you. You're the one vomiting the dinner you didn't even really want, sweating like a Slurpee, breaking out like it's prom night, and getting your zebra on with the stretch marks. And yet someone - someone who is NOT paying the copays and deductibles - refers to your bun in the oven as "my baby." Nope, sorry.
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