Secrets of the Heidi Klum Pregnancies

I was talking to an old friend of mine the other day, Anita. Anita and I go way back. She was a sorority sister of mine at UVA and we have remained friends over the years, despite the fact that we don't get to see each other very often anymore.

Good old UVA

Just to give you some background on Anita - she is half-Indian and half-well, non-Indian (I don't know what the non-Indian part is fully comprised of). But whatever the mix is, it WORKED because Anita is pretty much drop dead gorgeous.

Well DONE, Mr. and Mrs. Shukla!

She's also very, very smart. Anita just completed her Doctorate at the University of Virginia. Woohoo! Congratulations, Anita!

She has a PhD in Risk and Prevention in Education Science.

Now, I'm not altogether sure I know what that means. But it sounds REALLY hard. And a little scary.

When we talk about it, mainly I just listen and say things like "Exactly!", "Of Course," and "ABSOLUTELY." And I nod my head vigorously, looking like I am full of wisdom and insight.

Kind of like this woman:

Nobody is fooled by the phony finger under the chin pose.

I do this a lot. The jig is up. (Or, as I have also been known to say, the "gig" is up. Which makes sense to me as well. Please refer to this post on Moo moments.)

Sometimes, if someone had way too much to drink, and confused Anita and me for sisters, I would be ecstatic.

"Did you hear what he said?!!" I would tell everyone around me within a 30 foot radius.
"Who?"
"That drunk guy. Over there. He thinks we're sisters."
I would then make sure everybody knew that SOMEONE thought I looked enough like Anita to pass for sisters and would bring it up for weeks in conversations, when appropriate.

Like when people were talking about the weather. Or what to eat for dinner.

IF I was going to get a fake ID in college, it would have been Anita's, who was a year older than me. Not that we drank in college. My sorority sisters and I didn't roll like that.

We were too busy doing community service. And studying. As a matter of fact, we all took a pact to wait to drink until we were 22. We actually waited a full year after we were legal, just because.

I'm just putting this out there so you know. That's how we rolled.

Anyway.

And even if I HAD used Anita's ID, had I been that ingenuous, I would have to hope that the bouncer was slightly blind in order to pass for her. Other than the coloring, we didn't look much alike.

So, sorry to take you on that slight detour, but now you know a little about Anita.

Say, "Hi, Anita!"

This is Anita with her husband and son the day she became a "Dr."

"Hi, Anita!"

So . . . the other day, Anita and I were catching up. I was ecstatic to hear that Anita's second pregnancy is going well. A mother of a beautiful three year old boy, she and her equally fabulous husband, Andy, are expecting their second sometime in April. Halfway through her pregnancy, she is still as active as ever. The nausea has fully abated and she is still running.

Yeah, running.

Now, I don't know about you, but pretty much the minute I found out I was pregnant, there was no running in the cards for me. Not because I didn't WANT TO or hadn't thought that I would be one of those pregnant women who exercises until the day THE BABY IS READY TO POP OUT.

On the contrary, BEFORE I was pregnant, I would judge pregnant women who gave up the gym and vow that I would NEVER BE LIKE THEM.

How obnoxious. I am surprised nobody slapped me. Seriously. If I could go back, I would slap me.

Because, in my case, pregnancy humbled the living crap out of me. That little snooty girl who used to sit around judging other pregnant women for not doing the Stairmaster in their second trimester got her ass kicked by pregnancy.

Really, really badly.

Karma can be such a BE-ATCH.

"Running?!" I said to Anita. I am pretty sure I gasped. She could hear the amazement in my voice.

"Yeah, I'm trying to," she said humbly. (People like Anita try their best to sound humble, but I am pretty much onto them.)

The gig is up.

"Wow. You must have really good pregnancies." I tried to keep the jealousy out of my voice because you SHOULD NOT BE JEALOUS OF YOUR FRIENDS but I was already turning a suspicious shade of green.

And then Anita told me her theory on why her pregnancy was so much different than mine.

"It's because I have a long torso."

Hallelujah. I told you she was smart.

For the LONGEST time, I have tried to tell everybody the reason I have such bad pregnancies is because I have a short torso. And my friend, who is a DOCTOR, just confirmed it.

I am average height, with pretty long legs . . .

but I have the torso of a Hobbit.

If you see me in a car, you usually have to look closely to see if anybody is looking over the dashboard. I used to put pillows on my seat, just so I could clear the steering wheel.

But then I realized how stupid that looked, so now I just say a prayer, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

When I am pregnant, my stomach usually ends up somewhere near my lungs, my bladder becomes so smushed that I need to run to the bathroom literally every ten minutes and I have heartburn before the Clearblue Easy test comes back positive.

You know, probably just LIKE Heidi Klum.

Heidi Klum is the Anti-Hobbit.
And her torso can fit at least 3 of my children in there with room for a Big Mac

The one saving grace is that after pregnancy, I pop back to my pre-pregnancy weight pretty quickly.

This is because for nine months, I have not had any space in my belly to eat. I'd get full after eating a freaking Swedish Fish.

So, when people are all like "Oh look at you! You're back to your weight!" I say what I am really thinking back to them which is, (Are you F$#!ing kidding me? I have been providing sustenance for myself and this baby for nine months with SALTINES because that's all that would fit into my Hobbit torso and oh my god will someone just give me some wine) . . .

"Thank You."

I hope Anita continues to have a wonderful pregnancy, long torso and all. And to all my long torso-ed friends, who look more like this during their pregnancy:

Than this:

Goody (freaking gumdrops) for you.

P.S. I have the sneaking suspicion that a certain person by the name of Anita may try to contest what I am saying. All I am going to tell you is that she is also one of those people who loses weight if she is stressed.

Yeah. One of those.

So take anything she may say with a grain of salt. After you stop hating on her.