Preggy Brains 4, Golf shirts 0

My friend Terri loaned me one of her pregnancy books which gives a week-by-week account of what’s going on with my body and the baby. I love reading about the approximate size and length of my little one but hate the authors’ inclusion of all the things that could go wrong at each point in the pregnancy. It’s become so bad that I’ve started envisioning a couple of sadistic, misogynistic MDs collaborating on the book, laughing maniacally as they smoke cigars and type another chapter.

It’s kind of like being single and having someone tell you all the wonderful attributes of the guy she’s set you up with, then caution you that he might have a criminal record, multiple personalities, or a current marriage license. Are those things possible? Sure. Are they likely? No. Is it possible to still go on the date and enjoy yourself? Fat chance. More than anything, it would make you wonder if the so-called friend had your best interest in mind.

I’ve grown weary of wondering if my baby will grow a second head, an eleventh finger, or will even make it until next week. I’m returning the book to Terri, even though the authors undoubtedly would caution against it. No doubt they would suggest I run the risk of getting into a traffic accident on the way home.