Yes, I am pregnant. No, I did not eat a watermelon, a basketball, and I'm not one of those people who is just carrying a little extra weight around her middle.
No, you may not touch my belly. No really, you can't. Hands off, you crazy woman!
Yes, I am going to have my hands full. Is that you volunteering to help? Why, thank you. I have plenty of laundry that needs to be folded, and am always accepting home-cooked meals.
Yes, we do know what causes this. Apparently, we're pretty good at it too. Jealous?
No, I haven't had the baby yet. And for the record, really? Why would you even ask that?
Yes, I do feel like I'm ready to pop. I also feel like I want to pop you for asking such an inane question.
No, we are not having twins. Yes, I'm sure. No, I really don't want to hear about your sister-in-law's cousin's friend who had surprise twins after having multpile ultrasounds.
No, I don't know when the baby is going to come. Wishing I had that fortune-telling gift, though, because then we could probably make enough money to pay for this birth.
Nope, I don't want to hear your horror stories. Or your sister's, your daughter's, or the one you just saw on TLC. No, really. I have some of my own. Like how I once had a baby in my minivan on the side of the road, or how I walked around dilated to a 6 for a week before I had my son.
And no, I'm not going to go into labor while I'm standing here talking to you. Even if I did, it's highly unlikely that I would give birth with you here watching thankyouverymuch.
So as of today, I'm putting the world on notice. From here on out, comments on my pregnancy will be limited to "Wow, you look amazing," or "Can I bring you some chocolate?"
(Or maybe I just need to stop going to the grocery store. What is it about picking out produce that inspires stupid pregnancy comments?)