Dear Husbands, Fathers & Testosterone Challenged Females with Partners

As you ALL know because I mention it incessantly and am desperately looking for sympathy, I am now 8 months pregnant. Please find for me a totally cheerful, feeling great 8 months pregnant woman and I will nominate her for CNN mother of the year. You’re just plain round at this point. If I lived in Manhattan Beach, I would be less round because I would be anorexic, then pregnant and so underweight to start with that the whole thing would be a wash; I would look normal by now. But I don’t. I looked normal before, now I’m fatter. There we go. How exactly do we incubate a human being without gaining weight. Someone tell me and it better not be a man. I’ve had it.

I will start by saying I LOVE the men in my life. There are many. I have an amazing Dad, husband, two boys, tons of friends who are men, vendors, you get it. I don’t have a man problem. I have a specific man (men) problem. Two days ago I had a meeting with my Dad; we are business partners and meet regularly. I walk into the meeting and the FIRST thing he says in a crowded restaurant? “Wow, you definitely look pregnant!” I definitely look pregnant. You ding bat, how exactly do you want your grandchildren to show up? Shriveled messes? I know there are a few extra Stouffer’s Mac and Cheese’s lining my gut but this is not totally unusual. As I said to my Mom later that day, well at this point I hope I look pregnant. I only have 5 weeks to go, when exactly would it be kicking in? Clearly, she too was disgusted, but she’s had 40 years to get used to it. Now that I think about it, I’ve practically had 40 years to get used to it. Next man on the chopping block.

A few days ago my husband was going to take our 2 year old and meet our other son and me somewhere. He had been running errands earlier in the day with the 2 year old in MY car. Early in the day he came marching in to announce that my my gas tank was on empty. Imagine that. Well, you were driving around all afternoon in it, (it’s an SUV, no green letters please, I can’t handle it today), it might very well need gas. “Did you get any?” “No.” OK, so later when we were all going to meet up (two cars), my husband successfully arrived with the baby. This told me that he got gas. That’s nice because I had a ton of driving for work the next day and would’ve been challenged to get it myself. The next morning, I get in the freakin’ car and there is almost no gas. The yo yo put in $5 worth of gas?! Helllllo!!!! Did I mention I am pregnant with his child? This is not the gardener’s baby. This is not some Desperate Housewives mess. I can barely get between the pump and the car and he couldn’t even fill up my tank? Half a tank? I would’ve paid him back. Are we on food stamps????? No.

So here’s the deal for all of you boys out there. Pregnant women are challenged. Do not run around talking about their weight, giving them articles about how to lose it (while pregnant, yes, my husband did this one too in the name of health), talk about “getting out there” (meaning to exercise), ask if you really want that last cookie, steel your Valentine’s chocolates out of the fridge before you’ve even had one (yes, this also happened, thank you husband) and in general be nice. Could you actually fill the tank up? Hey, knock yourself out, maybe even get the car washed? Could you just once, be proactive instead of just figuring that I’ve got everything handled? It’s called being nice to the woman who is BIRTHING YOUR CHILD. Anyway, the rant is over. I will now go and exercise these evil hormones out of me so that I have the energy to run my company AND get the car washed. And how was YOUR day?