Grease that digit up with some olive oil and yank that ring off and put it where it belongs: on the finger of a small, malnourished child.
You’re gorgeous and juicy, ladyfriend, but you’re not Demi Moore. I don’t want to see you naked when you’re not pregnant. I sure as shit don’t want to see you drop trou with a bun in the oven.
I don’t have a problem with you hiring Annie Leibovitz to capture this oh-so-important period in your life. Just don’t ask me to pore over the album, attend the portrait unveiling, or suffer your new two-for-one Facebook photo.
Treacly pregnancy photos bring navel gazing to a new level. Literally. In fact, your new outie is all you can see. Don't get me wrong: I can't wait to see the new addition to your family. In the meantime, just show me the sonogram.