All right people, try to focus.

What I’m about to show you is not a side of me I allow just anyone to see.

Don’t get too excited. There are no nude photos in this post.

Still here?

Okay.  Now that my second trimester is coming to a close, my appetite has taken on a life of it’s own.

A ravenous, get-the-hell-outta-my-way-or-else-you’ll-eat-dirt kind of hunger has reared it’s ugly head.  Particularly if Nilla wafers or ice cream is involved.

Trust me.  It is not pretty.

Much like my whale-ish body.

Anyhow, last night I prepared a delicious dinner favorite in our home, spaghetti and meatballs.

Of course, before any of the dinner was actually served, I dipped some of the cooked pasted into sauce and shoved it into my mouth when no one was looking.

Sans utensils.

I was doing my best to wait for Dadisodes to come home so we could have dinner together.  However, I’m pregnant and incessantly hungry.  A little taste was not going to hurt anyone.  I was also trying my hardest to keep my demure, yet domestically hot MILF ensemble free of any unsightly tomato stains.

See?

Try and control yourselves now. I know my reversible fleece jacket and blue Care Bear socks cannot be ignored.  They turn heads all the time.  The socks even have rubber grips on the bottom so that I won’t slip and break a hip.  Just in case I suddenly get pinned down in the head of passion.

When Dadisodes finally arrived home for dinner, I rushed over to give him a warm embrace.  His frozen cheeks melted against mine.

And as I gently stepped back while staring deeply into his hazel eyes, I slowly began to unzip my top, and…well…

I have no idea how Dadisodes is able to resist ravaging me at the door.

But this was not what I had in mind as an appetizer before dinner.

So is this what it is like to have a ‘rack’?

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