“What the fuck is this?” Said herself as she examined her belly in front of the mirror.
“According to Google it’s a linea nigra… sounds very exotic.” I said as I scrolled through my phone in bed.
“I look like a fucking badger.”
“To be honest you smell like one too.” I’ve a great knack of not editing my thoughts.
“What did you just say?” I could apologise and push off what I said as a joke but it’s no joke… she stinks.
“Babe, great relationships are built on honesty… just remember that.” She clenched her teeth.
“It’s your feet! They have some whiff… is that the baby’s fault?”
“I thought that smell was you?” She looked terrified now.
“It’s definitely you.” And then she started to cry.
“I’ve had enough of this! I’m mouldy feet and a landing strip over my fat belly.”
“It’s OK love, we can buy you some nice sandals.” She sobbed louder.
“I’m not me!” And then I said the line that everyone says that either can’t remember pregnancy or never has been, “ah well, it will all be worth it in the end.” That comment got a well deserved thump.