Speaking of waistlines....

Here's a picture of Angelina Jolie and one of her gazillion adopted kids found on some obscure celebrity gossip website. (Apparently, US Weekly isn't enough trash for me...I have to seek it out.)
The caption next to this picture read: "Angelina's bump...another baby or merely bloat?"

Seriously. They call this a bump. Possibly a BABY bump. Let me tell you something - my belly was bigger than this 5 minutes before I conceived each of my 3 children. Hell, it's bigger than this right now and my youngest is 8 months old. I would give my left arm (ok, I would only give the moles on my left arm) for a belly like that. If you want to see bloat, you should see me with PMS, 5 minutes after inhaling a Chipotle Steak Bowl...all of it in one sitting. Oh yeah. That's bloat.

First of all, if Angelina is pregnant again, I have two things to say:
1. Good Lord, woman, slow down...Kids are like puppies. They do grow up and become slightly less adorable and cuddly. And the more you have, the more you have hating you during their teenage years.
2. How many kids do you need to have to finally get fat and/or have visible stretch marks? Or frown lines? Or gray hair? Or even a husband, for crying out loud? (Uh oh, is my Oklahoma Bible Belt upbringing rearing it's ugly head?)

Ok, so that's alot more than 2 things to say, but these are the things that keep me up at night.
That and radar detectors. But that's a story (though not much of one) for another time.