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4. You will gain weight

In the last 72 hours I've had pancakes four times. And not just a single pancake, but pancake feasts with steak tips and crab cakes and omelettes and milkshakes and entire half gallons of cranberry juice and shit.

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Now, I've always been a big eater. Actually, "big eater" is misleading. I've been referred to as "crackhead hungry" (I don't know what that means either) and a "human garbage disposal" by two separate people in the last three years. My eating habits are prodigious, legendary, stealth and Darth. Fortunately, I also play basketball several times a week, which keeps me in (relatively) decent shape. As long as I hover around 210, I'm good.

But, as much as I'm forced to eat now, I'd have to play 119 times a week to keep it all off. Seriously, as I'm typing this I'm eating a doughnut. Because we bought a dozen doughnuts yesterday because she wanted one. So I'm eating a doughnut. An hour after I finished eating three pancakes. That were brought home from an impromptu trip to IHOP yesterday because she wanted pancakes. The doughnuts were purchased on the way to getting the pancakes.

If Rick Ross feels like Pac, I feel like how Rick Ross looks.

3. No one will give a fuck about you

Last weekend, The Pregnant-Ass Wife Person™ and I went to a going-away cookout for one of my homegirls. At least that's what I think happened last weekend. My memory is gone from the concussion I received when I was stampeded by the rush to hug The Pregnant-Ass Wife Person™ when we entered the park.

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Now, I didn't mind this at all. I mean, The Pregnant-Ass Wife Person™ is carrying a life. An actual human life. And all I was carrying was a regifted bottle of merlot. So I get it. Still, though. I miss people saying things to me. Like "Hi."

2. Random people get very (and inappropriately) familiar

(Actual conversation I had two weeks ago)

"Your wife is pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Congrats, man."

"Thanks."

"I know you must be loving it too. I heard pregnant pussy is the shit."

"Man, if you don't shut up and get my junior bacon cheeseburger and value fries, I'm gonna jump behind the counter and smack the shit out of you."

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1.  People volunteer the scariest and grossest pregnancy horror stories ever

This happens to The Pregnant-Ass Wife Person™ more than it happens to me. Actually, it never happens to me. But it happens to her so often that I can't help but overhear some of this Eli Roth-ass, Apocalypto-ass shit.

(Sample conversation I'll overhear)

"…so I wasn't able to have a natural birth, and the doctor said my stomach was too small for a c-section, so I had to give birth through my anus."

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"Your anus?"

"Yes. My anus. My son was delivered through my asshole. I still haven't been able to sit down. Or stand. Or take a shit without my spleen falling out."

"Well, um, thanks for the information. Can I have my junior bacon cheeseburger and value fries now?"