hey there...another update! please review...it really keeps me goin...

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"Oh, no, Alex is going to be a model," I moaned as I looked at my daughter's long limbs. "God, I hate models."

"Please enlighten me, why the sudden hate for models all of a sudden?" Amy said to me. She knew too well that I was still sulking about my post-pregnancy body. So instead of sitting down to discuss body issues, Amy just continued to sterilize feeding bottles in the microwave.

Of course, breast milk is still best but as it turned out, I had a problem establishing my breast milk. And all those breast-feeding mothers made the job look easy. According to all the books I read, breasts make milk on a supply and demand basis: the more the baby sucks, the more milk the body makes. I had absolutely no milk on the day the baby arrived. I didn't know if the baby was able to get any from me. And what would the baby do without those all-important antibodies? Where was Dr. Spock (A/N: a very popular and very good pediatrician/author who died years ago) when you needed him?

When I was about to give up (around the day after Alex's birth) the pediatrician advised me that whenever the baby was hungry, I should put Alex to my breast, allowing her to suck. The baby's sucking reflex would be strongest when she's hungry. Only when the baby wasn't satisfied should I offer formula from the feeding bottle.

I tried that and that didn't work either because once Alex learned to suck from the bottle, she refused the breast. Apparently, sucking from the bottle produced milk effortlessly as compared to the work the baby had to put in to get what little milk my breasts were able to produce. Amy, who seemed to possess encyclopedic knowledge about motherhood, said that, now, the baby had nipple confusion. I wondered if guys had the same thing when they had more than one partner. Do they unlearn to suck one nipple when they've learned to suck another? Tough luck.

In any case, I was still at it, giving my baby both breast and bottle. Although I was pretty sure that somewhere, sometime, someone would tell me that I was doing it all wrong, the "all" being my whole unwed and seemingly unbothered façade about it. And even if I were to give Alex my all, people would just tell me that what the baby needed most of all was a dad. Not raising my child exclusively on breast milk was just one of those things I might be doing wrong but it was small compared to that big thing. It was a no-win situation. I had told Amy once that it was poor Alex that who was the worse for it: the lack of a dad and the negligible breast milk. But the ever friend, she just told me to keep at it and promised to hook me up with a breastfeeding coach. Yes, such things existed, she assured me.

In the meantime all I had to worry about was whether my daughter had the brains of a genius because for sure—and this I believe with the confidence every mother felt whenever her child is concerned—that my daughter already had the makings of a supermodel.

"Because I hate the fact that they look so perfect all the time?"

"Will you please stop your paranoia?" Amy complained as she listened to her friend. "I mean, being a model is not that bad. YOU were a model. So what if Alex becomes a model?"

"But that's the point! The defining factor of a model's being is that she has a pretty face and that she starves herself silly to stay that way only to be the eye candy for all the men out there."

"But," Amy countered, "She'll be successful, beautiful and happy."

"Yeah, and I'll never lose weight," I grumbled.

I found out that despite giving birth, my body was far from my pre-pregnancy weight. Though I had lost sixteen pounds since giving birth, my body seemed determined not to loose any more.

"Give yourself a break. It's been a month since the birth," Amy declared as she assembled the baby carrier my mom sent. "Besides, my goddaughter will be a lawyer or maybe a writer. Look at her large head, lots of brain matter in there."

"Yeah, well she'll be both a model and a lawyer/writer. Both beauty and brains can come in one package. One doesn't necessarily exclude the other. Besides, all babies have large disproportional heads that normalize when they become toddlers," I added, defensive about Alex's large head. "And might I mention she got both the smarts and looks from her mother!"

"Speaking of genes, how is the sperm donor doing?" Though Amy was glad that I didn't marry Randy—had I hastily trotted down the aisle towards Randy, it would have been for all the wrong reasons. In Amy's book, Randy was OK to have as a friend, not a husband.

Despite being stereotyped as the party going champ who dated modelesque girls for fun, Randy was turning out to be quite the responsible father. From the onset, he had told me that he wanted to be part of Alex's life, signing her birth certificate right away as the father of the child. He then asked his lawyer, to draw up a contract that would guarantee me a monthly stipend for the baby with an enumeration of the occasions he should attend. So even if Alex was illegitimate, given my unwed status and the fact that Alex would use my family name, Randy was contract bound to give child support, spend time with Alex and go to occasions like birthdays and graduations. It wasn't the best deal but it was better that nothing, especially when I had the promise written in black and white, signed.

I was surprised at first, then thankful. I knew visits and financial help from him would ease things a lot. He must have felt extremely guilty to suggest it. All the same, I was glad that he'd be around to help parent.

"I'm not really sure. Last I heard, he was dating Stacy." Of course I was sure Randy was dating. The guy was single and gorgeous. I didn't need to verify this to anyone. If I were single (I already know I'm gorgeous), I would do the same thing.

"Stacy as in Stacy Keibler?"

"Yup."

"Aren't they in a story line together?"

"Yeah, I think so. Typical Legend Killer girlfriend material, huh?"

"I can't believe it. He hasn't changed."

"I don't know... I think he has. I mean, it seems like he's mellowed."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, he's trying to be dad of sorts now that Alex is around. In fact, he's coming over for dinner."

"Oh?" Amy's left eyebrow shot up. "Then it's a good thing Matt's picking me up in a few minutes. With any luck, our paths need not cross."

"You're too hard on him."

"You're too easy on him, and I don't like him."

"Well, he is the father of my child."

"Can't argue with that." Amy placed the sterilized bottles on the kitchen countertop for easy access, looking as if she were about to give a lecture on contraception being the responsibility of the man as well as the woman. It was a good thing when Amy's cell phone beeped when it did. It was Matt telling Amy that he was downstairs. "OK, gotta go. Good luck with dinner. What's on the menu?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Don't tell me you're actually going to sweat over a hot stove for Randy?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going for Chinese, Italian or Japanese takeout."

"OK." Amy gave me a quick peck on the cheek and Alex a kiss on the head. "Bye, Alexandra. You're so pretty."

"Just like her mommy," I added.

"Just like her mommy's best friend."

"Say hi to Matt."

"Say goodbye to Randy."

"Whatever."