…my right eyebrow has parted itself down the middle and the right half sticks straight out from my head. It looks as though my forehead is being overtaken by some sort of blond caterpiller.
…I spend at least five minutes debating whether or not to cook a healthy breakfast of eggs and toast or slice into the cherry and cheese danishes that I've been buying every three days. And then I end up doing both.
…I discreetly remove gray hairs from my husband's pillow so that he will not notice them when he wakes up. A good wife helps to keep her husband in denial, that's my motto.
In completely unrelated news, here's a new picture of Jeff and I complete with baby bump at sixteen weeks. I am happy to report that I've gained eight pounds and thus no longer look like a sickly child who is with child. I do look slightly crazy eyed, but that has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with the fact that I can not take a photograph where my eyes do not bug out of my head. I hope that is not genetic.
(After I wrote the title of this post, I realized I would now spend the rest of the day singing throwback Sugar Ray songs. You're welcome.)
