The Tale of a Pouffy Tummy

So last night, I walking into the condo, enjoying the sunshine, when my elderly neighbor, Mr. F, stops to chat.  He loves to do this, especially when I rushing home to grab something during work, on my phone, or carrying eighteen thousand heavy grocery bags precariously balanced in my arms.  I try to be kind and friendly, but the man asked me what my job is every single time.  He never can understand that I'm a lawyer.  Even after I tell him, he usually asks what kind of secretary I am.  I know that he's in his seventies, or early eighties, and I should be understanding, but he makes it difficult sometimes.

Like yesterday.

So we are having once again the conversation about how baffling it is that a little blonde girl can actually be a lawyer, when he says. "It looks like you are having an event soon!"

"Hmmm?"  I reply, confused- looking around to see if I have invites or party supplies on the front stoop.  Nary a balloon or flower.

"Well,"  he says, nodding at me, "You're pouffy in you tummy!  You know- an event!"

POUFFY IN MY @#!*#@! TUMMY!!!

Moving on to someone who actually is pregnant- Abby is about to have her baby!  I stole this pictures from her, because she is such an adorable preggo person,a nd is one of those who loves being pregnant.  Baby Gray, her second adorable little girl, is due any second, as you can see!

I am just too excited for the family and its' new addition. 

Time for some celery and the treadmill for me, y'all.  Has this ever happened to you?  I am distraught!  POUFFY IN MY TUMMY!  WHO even says that?  Only a man, I tell you.