Only Hearts Should Be Worn On Sleeves eBook tour

EARTHY HUMOUR: Former Advocate reporter Kellie O’Brien (White), who has published an eBook of her columns, relaxes with her daughter, Ella. Picture: Katrina Dodd.This is an extract from Kellie O’Brien’s Mum’s the Word column, which ran in The Advocate’s entertainment magazine in 2007. The column’s have been transformed into an eBook, titled, Only Hearts Should Be Worn On Sleeves: The Snotty Truth About Motherhood.
HangZhou Night Net

THIS PROTUBERANCE IS NOT PUBLIC PROPERTY

August 22, 2007

HOW many times have you had to tell a member of the male population that size doesn’t matter?

Well beware, because when you have a bun in the oven and men try to remind you that size doesn’t matter, sorry, but you somehow know it does.

As a mum-to-be, everyone has an opinion on whether you’re tummy is too big or too small.

“Are you eating enough? You’re so tiny,” people say as they try and tickle it.

Note to those who have never been pregnant: Don’t touch a preggo woman’s belly unless you were responsible for its growth.

And even then, you still need permission or you could end up like male spiders: Eaten by their female partners after mating.

Actually, human females aren’t stupid enough to eat their husbands.

They know they’ll need them to get up for the 1am feed, 4am nappy change and 7am champagne breakfast in bed. But I digress.

So, if your tum-tum isn’t being described as “cute”, it’s: “Gawd, are you sure you haven’t got triplets in there?”.

It’s at this point you want to break out the cymbals and announce to all: “Yes, watch out, fatty boomba is comin’ on through”.

Then there’s those who ask “when are you due?”, before a look of horror as they realise you may simply have let yourself go.

And no amount of exercise is going to make that bulge look less like an addiction to chocolate mud cake.

Besides, you’d rather be lounging on the couch, a red cordial wine substitute in one hand and a copy of Kid Wrangling in the other.

After buying The Biggest Loser exercise DVD before getting up the duff, the only real heart raising workout performed since – apart from the obvious one – has been pelvic floor exercises.

It’s one form of exercise I’m happy to commit to 110% if it prevents me being labelled “biggest loser” after peeing myself in public.

So, as I fulfil my craving for mud cake (no ice cream and pickles for me, thanks) and pull my muffin top into my trousers, I’m resigned to the fact that size might matter – but I don’t care.

Mrs O’Brien now runs a successful blog called Three L’il Princesses, which is a continuation of the column that featured in The Advocate.

“>Click here,

This article first appeared in Hangzhou Night Net.


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