Pregnancy is a sensitive time. Real sensitive. I try to remind myself most of time that I have a monster hormone cocktail running through my veins, and that everything I’m feeling probably wouldn’t feel so much under normal circumstances.
Sometimes that works…. sometimes it doesn’t. Poor Hunter.
Hunter: Mike and I are in a race to lose thirty pounds.
Beth: Cool… could it wait until after the baby so I can join and not be the beluga whale wife with the hot husband?
Hunter: Babe, you look great. You’re supposed to be gaining weight. The beauty of life and all.
Beth: *with alarm* Do I look like I’m gaining weight?? I’m not really! I swear!!
Hunter: No, no, of course not, you just have a giant baby belly! That’s all!
Beth: *expletives* What? Do you think my belly is too giant?! Does it look huge?? *panicked whimpering*
Hunter: No! No bigger than any other baby belly in the history of baby bellies! It’s perfect! You’re perfect! I’m sorry! *expletives*
Beth: *runs to the bathroom to inspect in Giant Baby Belly in the mirror*
Hunter: Errr… would ice cream make it better?
Beth: * screaming from the bathroom* YOU JUST SAID I WAS FAT, OF COURSE ICE CREAM WON’T HELP.
God bless him.