So, Trevor got measured for a tux yesterday (for a wedding we’re both in September 12). I picked up my bridesmaids dress, which is not even close to fitting (thanks Knox!), so I am going to have to have it majorly altered. Trevor disagreed with the chest measurement at the tux place. “They said my chest was 40 inches. I don’t think so. Will you measure it?” So I measured his chest. 42 inches. Nice. Trevor was pleased. This started a trend: measure my bicep, measure my waist, measure my… LOL, JK. Anyway, I measured his waist 32 inches. Then comes “Let’s measure your chest and waist!” Bottom line. I am now a brick that measures 36″ 36″ 36″. Wow. My husband has bigger boobs than me (which I knew) and now has a smaller waist. It’s okay, the baby is well worth the fatness, but I just thought I would share that my husband is a hot piece of ass that is continually getting more attractive and well-built while I am getting rounder all over. How fair is that? Where is that sympathy weight he is supposed to be gaining? Not saying that I am fat, I know I am growing a baby, but come on, DH, no more measurement comparisons!
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