**This is an attempt to write how a 20 something female might write in a personal Diary that she has had since she was a kid and picked it back up after years and years, because she had no one else to turn to. Ladies please give me some info on thinking/ writing like a female, thanks**



Dear Diary,
Today was my day off. I didn't do much. It's about midnight and I have to work all day tomorrow. Open to close, fun, fun, fun. Bedsides watching TV for five hours straight, I also went to the grocery store. That creepy bag boy was working there today. I hate when he's bagging on the line I chose. So today I made sure to take another checkout lane, four down from the one he was at. By the time the first can of cat food was scanned by the checkout girl, there he was opening a brown paper bag and grabbing the can of food. He looked at me and I swear to god chills ran up my spine. He looks at me with those typical serial killer eyes you see in the moves, part lust, part insanity. Like if given the option of having sex with me or killing me he wouldn't know which to choose. I don't know, maybe that's just how he looks. But anyone would be creeped out by a seemingly normal forty year old bag boy. People are more at ease if there bagboys are fifteen. Anyway. I looked down and helped the conveyer belt move my groceries towards the barcode scanner. I spent a hundred bucks on nothing. Cat food, Kitty Litter, canned tuna, bread 'white not wheat, I don't believe in that Atkins diet crap'�and I love Carbs, there so yummy. I also got the basic toiletries: Soap, Shampoo, Deodorant, Razers, and.
It's funny, Dear Diary. I always see on TV about these girls who go on and on for months and months and not know their pregnant. Hell, back in high school, I knew a girl who went six months without knowing. She just told everyone that she was getting fat. I could see it and so could all the female teachers. It turned out to be Mr. Barrenhal's kid. They had been having sex since her Freshman year, and two years later she was a mother at seventeen. And all the girls knew she was having sex with him and after she got pregnant so did his wife, the school board, and her parents. He went to jail, her and her parents and baby moved somewhere out west.
'My period has never been regular'�so I didn't know.'�
I always thought: Bullshit!! They were just afraid. But now I realize that you have no real control over denial. Denial is strong and overpowering. I serve drinks to denial all night long.
'My wife will come back.'�
'My kids do love me.'�
'I am appreciated.'�
I am pregnant. Well that's what the test said. I am pregnant. It's weird saying 'I am' as opposed to 'so and so is pregnant'�. Two months, is how far back I can remember my last period. And this whole time swept up in denial. Oh, Shit! comes to mind.
'Oh, Shit!'� is the common answer whenever a single girl with no boyfriend realizes she is pregnant.
'OH, SHIT, Dear Diary!'� Oh, shit!
The next thought is, 'I've been drinking and smoking and, oh, shit, I think I smoked some pot a few weeks ago!'� Oh, shit my baby is going to be retarded. And it's all my fault.
Then, 'Oh, shit who's baby is it!?'� It could be one of three 'no, four-no, no three men. One of three men. God I sound like such a whore. Three different men in three months. I sound like the typical slutty bartender. But, Dear Diary, I swear I'm not.
The three men are easily explained: The first was the bad one, the one night stand-almost-too-drunk-to-remember time. That was with this guy who comes in the bar, Chris. Chris is cute, and sweet and he was drunk, I was drunk, it was after hours and he was helping me close the bar. We matched each other shot-for-shot that night: he'd do a tequila, I do a tequila. I'd do a Jegermeister, he'd do a Jeger. Shot-for-shot, and then one thing lead to another and we were on a table.
The second guy was my Ex. I was drunk one night-yes, again Diary- and I called him. He came over and that was that. The next morning we got in a huge fight and he left.
And the third was only a few days ago, so I don't think he would be suspect. Well Diary, since I told you about the last two; the third was, remember that boy I used to hang out with in high school, my friend with benefits, or fuck buddy as he would say, well he came in town for a night and we went out to dinner and, well'�old habits, even ten years ago habits, are hard to break.
The phone's ringing'�.
That was Monica, she wanted to know if I wanted to get some drinks and, as she says, 'party to the break'a break'a dawn'�. I told her I had to work at noon and said I needed sleep. She bought it. Why wouldn't she? It was the truth. And, Dear Diary I even sounded OK on the phone, not like I was hiding anything.
Well, Diary I gotta get some sleep'�I suppose I'm sleeping for two now.

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