Die, Model Bitch, Die!

(Hating Skinny People)

During your pregnancy you will begin to despise skinny people, especially hot skinny people or, more accurately, hot skinny celebrities showing off their hot bods on TV. Yes, even I was incredibly jealous of them as I sat—weighing in at a good 182—watching TV with my husband. When they would come on the screen, I would sneak a peek at him to monitor his reaction. Just as I thought: Drool leaked out from the corner of his mouth. Someone needs to tell those damn Victoria’s Secret models to try a little something called food. Meow! I’ll say it again, if men only knew how hard this was on us, they would bow to us for the entire nine months.

Here’s an incident (well, at least I made it an “incident”) of note. My husband and I were watching some quality TV: a show that had Playmates competing for some type of cash prize. Having absolutely no stomach for those tight, smooth bodies, I tried to switch the channel. Of course, I was stopped the moment my hand touched the remote. My husband was determined to watch. So I did what any red-blooded American girl would do: I made serious fun of all the girls. My husband behaved liked every red-blooded American man and stared at them like they were the first women he’d ever seen in his life.

Right before a commercial break, they previewed what was coming up next: While getting wet, the playmates removed their clothes, revealing skimpy swimsuits. I went mad. I told my husband I couldn’t take it. He said I was being silly, considering I had been a Playmate once myself. Well, if I had known what the sight of a Playmate did to women during pregnancy, I would have done us all a favor and been the fattest and hairiest Playmate of all time.

The show came back on, and there they were, all stripping down into skimpy bikinis. I begged my husband to switch the damn channel! He refused. I begged some more. I told him I couldn’t sit there and watch beautiful skinny women while I looked down at my knee-sized ankles. He clearly couldn’t understand what the hell I was going through, and I didn’t have the energy for Psycho Chick, so I resorted to the only thing I knew that would work. I began crying. It worked. We switched to the Disney channel.

Another effective strategy and one that feels devilishly good is this: While your husband is getting undressed at night, look in a magazine and shout out, “Damn! That George Clooney has a fine ass!” See how he likes it.