I ran into my mate Kazzer today. I hadn't seen her for at least a couple of months and I almost didn't recognise her because she's lost weight. In fact, she's probably lost about as much as I've gained - though obviously in slightly different places. There really is balance in the universe.
I lamented the fact that, unlike the other pregnant women whose blogs I've been reading, my increase in chest size has been mainly in the width across my back, with minimal increase in actual cup size. On the other hand, perhaps it's a good thing that I'm not a double-D; on my five-foot-nothing frame, surely such a projection would be laughable. I mean, can you take Dolly Parton seriously?
Once again I was struck by the fact that, when your friends read your blog on a regular basis, it's hard to think of something new to say when you actually bump into them in person.
I asked her about her poncho, made with love and worn with disappointment; she told me it doesn't drape as it should - that perhaps she's a tight crocheter (!).
Just before we made a lunch date for next week, I offered to let her touch my stomach ('cos, you know, people always want to). She declined on the grounds that she's English.
I'm really waddling these days - I know this, because I asked the boy and he didn't deny it. This means I'm duck-like in more ways than one (ever hear the euphemism, to have duck's disease? It means your bum is too close to the ground).