No, she’s not … so stop asking

Libby Hill

Libby Hill

I have quite the lovely and voluptuous figure.

And what I mean by that is that I’m kind of a fatty.

Now, it’s not that I feel bad about my weight. I really don’t mind it much at all, since it has quite a few positive attributes: keeps me warm in the winter, enhances my cleavage, my husband likes big butts, etc.

However, my curvaceous nature has its negative aspects as well.

For instance, now that Todd and I have been married for nigh on 6 months now, everyone feels free to assume that we have “the sex.” While I have no reason to deny this, it leads people to all kinds of other assumptions as well. Before we got married if someone would see me looking bloated, stressed out and tired everyone just chalked it up to me having one of my innumerable bad days. Now when I show up looking like that the same three words come out of every single person’s mouth: “Are you pregnant?”


What people can’t seem to understand is that I am an individual who on average needs 18 hours of sleep every night. That means that I am perpetually tired! And we’ve already covered the bloated thing. As for crabby, you should all know by now that crazy hormonal mood swings are a part of my day-to-day life!

But no, everyone just jumps to the baby question. Seriously people, you read about the horrible way I manage my life on a weekly basis … does it seem like I’m ready to add a helpless, completely dependent lifeform to the equation? My cat suffers enough …

Now that I think of it, no one ever seems excited when they ask me that question. It never sounds as though they are eagerly awaiting the passing on of my genetic material. As a matter of fact, they always sound a little frightened. Man, that just makes all of this that much worse.

Darn it people, you should be excited about my potential offspring. They would be awesome just like me.

Well, at least my mom thinks I’m cool.

Reach the owner of a now broken DVD player Libby Hill at [email protected].