As you can see, Allie Berry is growing...and growing...and growing! We're at the point where random people are approaching my belly with hands outstretched. I have always wondered about that. They don't know me from Eve and I guess that because I'm carrying another life in my womb, they assume that I really can't be all that bad. They don't know. I could be carrying a weapon or just decided to judo chop their butts to the ground in the middle of Main Street. They'd look really silly then, huh? Getting beat up by a preggo. I mean, they wouldn't approach a business man or a homeless person or the guy on the corner with a "Turn or Burn" message board or a Mom with 2 kids running around or a college student on her laptop or an extremely obese person and just start rubbing their bellies! Why me?
People at church are funny, too. I guess that since they think that since we worship the same God that it makes it okay to rub and make pretty dumb comments about how big I'm getting. Maybe they think that since I'm a pastor's wife, I won't turn around and say something right back to them. I'd like to turn the questions on some of them and ask them if they are about to deliver twins when they ask me if I'm sure there is just one kid in there. One dude asked me if I was going to be the next octuplet mom! WHAT? He's a little hefty himself, and when I relayed this to Brandon, he suggested I say, "No, are you?"
Here's just a warning: I'm pregnant, I'm tired and sometimes I'm a little mean on top of my normal, everyday, I'll-come-right-back-with-some-comment way of life. So hands off and keep the fat comments to yourself. Right now what I need is a nap, an antacid pill, someone to watch my lively 18 month old, and some compliments about a pregnancy glow that I hear some women have.
There, I said it.