“So I came home and made myself a snack. I made mashed potatoes, stuffing, chicken, and butter biscuits. I think I’m getting ready to make myself something else,” said Bethany, my pregnant friend.

“Bethany! That’s not a snack, that’s Thanksgiving!” I then encouraged her to bake the muffins she describe, something yummy sounding, and with chocolate. After all, don’t men say they think they’re wives are the most beautiful when they’re pregnant? This what they say. Furthermore, this is her chance to be beautiful with her belly hanging out and not feel guilty, or ashamed, or like she should be a size 2. In my case, being pregnant would actually be a chance to disguise my muffin top into something far more socially acceptable.

“Oh, you know,” I’d say to the sales clerk at Banana Republic, as I search through the extra large t-shirts on sale, “it’s so hard to get the right shirt to cover the belly when you’re carrying a love child.” At this point in my life when nothing fits, I bow my head in shame and rush past the size 4 to 6 sales clerk, with a big fat rock on her hand, working retail because she only needs to make supplementary income. Her job won’t last long because it’ll get in the way of football and weekends at the lake, but I digress. Let me get back to my original topic.

Having never been pregnant, I can only imagine the waves of emotions one goes through. And I’m sure it’s far easier for me to make light of my friend’s endless cravings because I don’t have a bun in the oven. Speaking of buns, I am a carb lover and constantly crave them, so I can relate somewhat to the cravings. The point is — if there has to be a point — we as women spend half our life (no statics needed for this statement) worrying about fitting into our jeans and looking a certain way. I truly feel that anxiety and insecurities flow through the umbilical cord, so I support women being their happiest and heaviest during pregnancy so that they can focus on having fat, happy babies.

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