Vanessa, 37, Lifelong Vegetarian, Yearns for Bone Broth

Will you find the title intriguing, or will you scoff at it? Woman protagonist, late thirties, uncharacteristic craving: clues, unsubtle clues—artless, even. The author might as well have pasted the pregnant lady emoji at the top of the page and packed it in.

Might something else account for Vanessa’s change in appetite? Will Vanessa turn out to be anemic, perhaps, or suffering from an acute exacerbation of her decades-long battle with chronic FOMO? Will this be the riveting tale of Vanessa’s belated rebellion over dietary restrictions long ago imposed by her parents, who will, by now, have rediscovered the meat-and-potatoes lifestyle of their youth?

You’d read those stories and feel nothing, but this one you’ll relish, a familiar bile rising in your throat. Vanessa is pregnant, yes, but fictional—no congratulations for you to offer, no shower gifts for you to buy, no envy for you to conceal. Go ahead, Vanessa whispers to you from the page. Read. Revel in resentment.

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