pretty funny

So the other day I was getting ready to go to bed when I saw what I thought was a stretch mark on my belly. You probably would have thought someone had died if you had heard my reaction. Tears. Weeping. I'm talking like WAILING here, for a solid 45 minutes. I basically cried myself to sleep.

Matt, of course, had absolutely no idea how to handle this situation. "It's okay, babe, isn't that supposed to happen?"

"NOOOOO! IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. AND I STILL HAVE FIVE MORE WEEKS TO GOOOOOOOOO!" Though it wasn't really that clear because I was crying so hard about it that I couldn't breathe, much less talk at the same time. (Think irrational child throwing a temper tantrum in Target or something of the sort. Got it? That was me.)

So I basically cry myself to sleep for the next 45 minutes while Matt rubbed my back. (He is such a good husband!)

And I wake up to find...

There was no stretch mark.

Yep. :) You know, there is no reward for me telling humiliating stories about myself to you on this blog. I could pretend that I'm perfect, but that wouldn't be any fun, would it?