Today, my linea negra (that completely purpose-less line that runs from your navel to your belly button, and sometimes beyond) got much more, um, "negra." I woke up this morning, looked in the mirror, and there it was, about 10 shades darker than it was yesterday, as if someone took a magic marker to my belly in a midnight prank.
Sometimes I think an army of Lilliputians commandeers my body at night — forcing my belly button to pop ("Come on, men, we've got to make this thing stick out unattractively by dawn!"), peppering my skin with strange little red dots, attaching new pockets of fat on my hips and thighs, and tracing a web of dark blue veins over my stomach and breasts — so that each morning I'm surprised by a new physical trait.
What will I wake up to tomorrow? Swollen ankles? Stretchmarks? Horns?