"This is all your fault," my adoring husband declared, grabbing his barely visible belly roll with both hands.
Of course, he's referring to the fact that I'm making him gain sympathy weight during this pregnancy. Last time around, he had been deployed for the majority of my nine months gestation, and had the gall to come back ten days before labor more physically fit than he'd ever been in his life. He ran, I waddled.
"Well this is all YOUR fault," I tossed back, smiling as I pointed to my rotund mid-section, in the works now for six months.
Lately, he's been complaining that his pants are fitting tighter than before. Lately, I've been complaining that I actually had to buy new maternity clothes because my old ones are a size too small. I mean, it's sweet that he's been making the effort, but we are really not in the same league here.
"Besides," I added, "I don't feel bad for you one bit. You'll lose your weight in no time."
"Hmpf," was the reply, obviously not happy that I wouldn't participate in his pity party. "Yeah, well, YOU'LL go on a weight loss plan and probably drop 30 pounds in one day!"
Can you believe what I have to put up with here?
"Birthing a baby is NOT a weight loss plan!!!"
He backed off the subject.
But I'm really pretty sure he was not convinced.
