Yesterday we went to dim sum with my parents and my sister. I couldn't cope with the idea of having to wear something because all my shorts are starting to fit me strange and my bras def. fit me strange so I resorted to this navy blue button up dress with tiny white polka dots all over it. I got it at a thrift shop years years ago for $3. Paul likes this dress because it unbuttons all down the front. I like this dress because it's not complicated and I resort to wearing it on PMS type days when I need to wear something quasi decent to go out but I feel too bloated to deal with anything too fitted. It occurred to me while I was wearing it that it would do very nicely through at least 2nd trimester -- it's an "A" line and flowy and all that. So maybe it was dress making me look more "mom" somehow. Because Paul must have told me a million times yesterday that he loved me, that I was beautiful and that I was wonderful.

Then again, it could have been my boobs.

Paul's become boob obsessed and we play this game where he tries to get at them and I defend them. He dons the most lecherous expression and tries to feel me up and I scream and beat him away. They've gotten bigger and my nipples are now as wide across as my thumb if you don't count the long fingernails. It's alarming -- and I am going to have to shop for new bras very soon -- we're entering "huge tracts of land" territory here.