I've been breaking the first rule of blogging: post often.
If my life were that interesting, trust me, I would post every day.
I did learn a new rule today. Don't ever ask a pregnant woman if she's sure she isn't having twins. If she were, she'd tell you. This question came from a woman who probably thought she was being cute. She wasn't.
I'm married to a woman who has gone from a size 4 to a 2 to a zero. (much of this has to do with the new sizing system in America... It's more about making a woman who is a size 12 feel better about herself by saying she's really an 8 - not about my wife shrinking).
That said, my wife is just small. She's petite.
And she works out. She's on the ball every morning, doing her yoga, slinging my kettlebell around, trying out my TRX... I see her. She's in great shape. From behind, you wouldn't know she's five months pregnant.
Pregnancy is traumatic. Your body goes from this fit machine to suddenly looking like you've swallowed a pumpkin... whole. Everyone is staring at you. She feels self conscious. She's fragile. There is a tiny creature inside her that wakes her in the middle of the night, moves around when she least expect it. It's a strange thing.
So don't make stupid comments that you find cute. They aren't.