Those aren't the breasts I married.

As I was getting ready for bed the other night I hear Spouse say "Huh...Well those aren't the breasts I married".

I rolled my eyes and put on my tank top (a sleepy tank I have been wearing for years and although in pregnancy it barely reaches what I have left of a belly button I refuse to part with).

"I know, they wont stop changing...I am outgrowing those last bras I got...I think I am an 'H' now..."

He says nothing and when I look over to him he is just sitting there glowing with a large amount of pride. A 3 years olds "I did this!!!!" sort of look.

Another eye roll.

I am glad he is proud I tell him, but its down right uncomfortable. Shirts don't fit me right, bras this size are expensive and hard to find plus there is always the sleeping issue. Sometimes I feel as if they are going to smother me. Towels and my bathrobe are useless. Between how much I have going on up front in combo with the belly I can no longer reach to upper shelves of anything. My feet are a long lost sight and shaving my legs is an ordeal. I fear what these mammoth things will do to our baby when I try and use them for what they are intended for.

They stress me out.

None of this phases him...he just looks incandescently happy.

Men.