Preggo my Eggo Update: 32 weeks down, 8 to go. People, please stop trying to will my vagina to expel things.

Dear man at the gym: Hi. I just want to let you know that I can see you. Yes, you. Unfortunately, your power to make yourself invisible has worn off. No, I am not going to go into labor today. No, you staring at my stomach the entire time I am on the treadmill enjoying an episode of A Baby Story will not will me to go into labor. Also, when you finally peel your eyes off my belly long enough to lurk at my TV screen instead of your own, only to see a baby coming out of a woman's vagina, it is not OK to look horrified. How exactly do you think pregnancy ends? The stork is a myth, BTW.

Dear Me at the gym: People think you are crazy. Yes, they do. Though you are all hormonal from the pregnancy stuff, it is not OK to cry when something super sweet happens on TV, like a man who was deployed while his wife gave birth returning home and seeing his baby for the first time. Everyone at the gym is not watching what you are watching and they just think you are some lunatic pregnant woman who can't keep her schmidt together. Knock it off. And stop watching A Baby Story for f*cks sake!

32 weeks and counting...