Transwidow - the Musical!

(The baby was nearly cooked)

The little swimmer grew apace. So much so that I ran out of lap; I kid you not, my puku was ENORMOUS. And being so tall, (a statuesque five foot three lol) I was lumbering around like a Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down. As I progressed, I noted The Wifies gradually took their gestational diabetes seriously, and sought Mr Specialist Diabetes Man’s approval. They were affronted that a large lardy girl like me was acing the blood sugar game. #Winner It was clear in my head that the bairn was first priority, so I had to eat accordingly and exercise, whether I wanted to or no. The grip of the bairn’s dietary requirements had eased past 'you’re going to be eating tomatoes on toast for three months, with a Monday curry for variety’. The Wifies appeared to think it was rotten luck, nothing to do with the bairn, and how could we fix it? My impression of their stance (collectively, it was Stepford-level concerning) at the get-go was that this was just a wrinkle, nae bother, ach, why, noo, how does all that apply to ME? Whit’s a’ this aboot nae cake?