Labour Pains

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess Normal,

Stardust Lil was in the building today! We all got sent an email not to bother her by hanging around in the lobby. 

It was tempting. I do like Stardust Lil. I probably wouldn't have voted for her party, but she has done a good job of representing NZ abroad I think. And her coalition is generally speaking, doing things I approve of.

And of course, it is sort of cool that NZ has a pregnant PM. Is she the first? I know that Tony Blair had a kid while he was in office, but he didn't actually carry it around for 9 months* which isn't quite the same. 

Pregnant BA, who sits next to me at work, is also expecting a baby. Hence my very clever Blip-Nickname for her. This worries Smock.

"She's not due to finish until the end of June," Smock told me. "But the size of her! I'm not sure if she'll make it."

I did not comment. Commenting on the size of women is a good way to get given a foot up the arse.

"Mind you, it's her second," Smock went on, warming to her theme. "With the second one you're always a bit more loose around the middle."

Do you know something? I'm aware that I'm one of those men who women feel comfortable around. I mean, they feel able to share things with me that they might not share with other men. Some of them even feel able to share things with me that they would ONLY share with other women.

I feel like an honorary woman sometimes. I like it. I'm even quite proud of it. But sometimes things can go a bit far. I sensed myself edging toward "a bit too far" as Smock continued.

"Before my first, I was very tight," she added. 

Definitely edging into the "Danger Zone". And to add to my woes, Kenny Loggins now singing in my head.

"Very tight," she emphasised. "But when I had my second, very, very loose."

I was hoping she was still talking about her middle. Yes, let's focus on that.

"And do you know," she went on, "when I gave birth, he was six and a half pounds."

Is that big? Small? Average? I never know. I nodded sagely.

"Which is not that big," she added. Okay, good. Thank you for clarifying.

"But I weighed myself the next day, and I had lost TWO STONE," she said.

"Gosh!" I said.

"I know!" she said. 

We both marvelled at this.

"So all of that weight was just water I was carrying about," she elucidated. "It must have been like a fountain down there!"

Now.

Look.

I'm not squeamish about these things. As you know. I have had enough conversations with you, in great anatomical depth, for you to know that conversations about women's downbelow undercarriage foofy areas do not bother me.

However.

Smock is my Project Manager. There are things I cannot unsee in my mind's eye. And from now on, every time we talk about software development, or test progress, or estimated effort, or defect remediation I am going to imagine her LIKE A WATERFALL DOWN THERE.

A line has been crossed, people. I may have to resign.

S.

* It is tempting, but cheap, to make a joke that he made Gordon Brown do that for him. But I won't stoop to it.