We’re sitting at dinner the other night when a thunderous fart rips through the quiet majesty of our kitchen.
“Don’t look at me like that, I’m pregnant.”
“No you’re not Jay, I’m pregnant.”
It was worth a shot. Meg has become so masterful with that excuse that I wanted to see if had the same Holy Grail effect with me. For the record, it didn’t.
“Can you get me a glass of milk? I’d do it myself, but I’m pregnant.”
“I’m tired. Carry me to bed since I’m carrying your damn kid.”
“I think you should drive to your parents for Christmas because I’m pregnant.”
The driving thing in particular is a low blow. When having to drive somewhere, we typically fight over who has to drive. I used to be able to win at least part of the time. Not anymore, as she busts out the pregnant card and I end up having to drive to wherever it is we’re going. My only plausible strategy is to get really drunk at our destination, thus rendering me incapable of driving home.
“Am I gaining weight?”
Let me explain to people how evolution works*. Something happens that starts killing off a good percentage of the population of a species. Through evolution, the species starts to change their genes to adapt to whatever it is that is killing them off. Over the course of many years, the species then becomes capable of handling the bad situation and not dying as regularly.
This might be more clear with an example. Many, many years ago, a woman asked her husband if she looked fat. He replied with a factual answer. Historians differ in their interpretation of the events that followed, with some arguing he died from blunt force trauma to the head while others maintain that the woman actually reached into her husband and stole his soul.
Whatever the means, droves of husbands were wiped off the planet by the same force. However, men still get married, so scientists believe that through evolution, males developed a gene that would immediately and unequivocally reply with some variation of the word “no”. Not surprisingly, in the face of a Bridezilla, more extreme derivatives of no are used.
I, being a husband with no known genetic variations nor any memorable exposure to radiation, share that gene.
“Am I gaining weight?”
“No!” (our hero proudly exclaims)
Meg started crying.
I was not prepared for the fact that when a woman transitions into a Pregnasaur, the rules change. To my recently married male friends, pay careful attention to the next statement, as it will go against your very nature to which you have become accustomed.
Apparently, at 14 weeks pregnant, the Pregnasaur wishes to be gaining weight.
Please take a minute to let that soak in.
Meg has replaced “hello” and “goodbye” with “Does my belly look bigger?” and “I think I look more pregnant today.” I have to summon quite a bit of energy to overcome years of genetics and actually answer yes to those questions.
26 weeks left. Tick tock.
* I didn’t read a single line of actual scientific research before spouting off about evolution, so don’t hold me to any of this.