Recently, I was perusing flickr when I stumbled upon a bundle of photos of pregnant women. When the first photo popped up, I thought to myself, I love me some pregnant bitches. Yes, that was my exact thought, and I meant the word bitches in the endearing, loving, female-to-female way.
Immediately after, I began questioning my sanity. Because honestly, who sees a photo of a pregnant woman and says to herself, “I love me some pregnant bitches”? Me. That is who. Because I do love pregnant women. While I am not at all into birth stories, I still like pregnant women.
How can you not like someone who is busy developing human life? That is magical.
I like that pregnant women, or “pregnants” as my husband calls them, have odd cravings. I like that they wear expandable pants and shirts. I like it when they are really, really super pregnant and sort of waddle when they walk. I adore that most of them are friendly enough to let strangers rub their bellies (not that I do).
I also like photos of ultrasounds. It’s fun to try to pick out the which part of the baby is what. “Is that a penis? Wait, nope, nope, that is totally a foot!”
My male counterpart, Adam, is not so fond of pregnant women. Actually, he is scared of pregnant women. He is most scared of the ones whom he didn’t knock up himself. It’s fair to say he has a phobia related to being weary of them. This obviously made my pregnancy really interesting.
Am I the only person completely enamored with pregnant women? Are they not gorgeous?
Do you love you some pregnant bitches?