I was weighing myself because I’m pregnant and it was Monday. I lead a very exciting life, I know.
Brian: “I wonder when you’ll weigh as much as me?”
Me: “What? I’ll never weigh as much as you. You’re always going to be fatter than me. Always.”
Brian: “Oh yeah? Let’s see then.”
I write down my new weight for this week. On average, I’ve been gaining about 2 pounds a week for a while now.
Brian then weighed himself. To my horror, it was only about 3 pounds heavier.
Me: “I don’t think so! You didn’t eat enough for dinner! Here, have this muffin.”
Brian: “See?! Only about another week and a half and we’ll be the same!”
Me: “Hang on, let me pee and I’ll weigh myself again. I probably have a few pounds of pee in here.”
Brian: “But now you know how I feel!”
Me: “Please, Brian, tell me how it feels to be you. Because this is so the same.’
Brian: “…it feels awesome?”
Me: “Yes. My swollen hands and feet feel awesome. So does your baby’s head pushing on my cervix. Do you know what that feels like?”
Brian: “…the opposite of awesome?”
Me: “Now get in the kitchen and go eat some muffins. But make sure to save me one. Or ten.”
Fast forward to last night – another Monday night weigh-in.
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s happened. Brian and I now weigh the same.
He did an odd sort of happy dance. I got into a sumo stance, pushed him over, and sat on him.
It felt awesome.
Psychobabble 