I got "that look" again yesterday. The one that my mind can only read too well what it is saying. The eyes of the hostess at the restaurant were drawn down to my protruding abdomen. Then "that look" read, "Are you going to have a baby?"
I have been eating pickles lately, but unfortunately, that is not the case.
Instead it is like 10 pounds of attached solid lipids bulging out in front of me.
"Aww. It is all just your imagination." You might say to try to comfort me.
Well, Thank you, but how about this? Recently a young grade school boy just straightforwardly blurted right out to me: "Are you going to have a baby?" It was all innocent enough; but did he have to say it right in front of my "skinny-minny" co-workers?
You just wait. Give me 85 days. That is how many I have left isn't it? Just wait until you see me then.
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