I read somewhere once that the three words a woman most wants to hear are not "I love you", but "You've lost weight".
The boy reckons that, apart from the wriggly beach ball that is my abdomen (which is apparently growing beautifully, according to the midwife), I've lost weight in my thighs, upper arms and face.
In the months leading up to my getting pregnant, I could tell that I was starting to stack on a bit of weight because my clothes were getting tighter. This, plus my age, had lead me to believe that my post-baby body shape wasn't going to be anything like Elle MacPherson's. I'd been psyching myself up to accept that it was highly unlikely my favourite pre-pregnancy clothes would be emerging from storage in the next twelve months.
But the boy's remark has left me feeling a little more optimistic, perhaps even ambitious, about my post-baby body possibilities. Okay, so the first few weeks aren't going to be particularly active. But later on I can see myself pushing Baby in a stroller up and down steep hills, using cans of baked beans on my biceps and maybe even following yoga exercises on DVD.
I have a chance of being one hot mama.