I guess something you don’t learn when you grow up is that if you look borderline preggers, hot pink is the non-in color. I suppose this is hard for me to figure out, however, and so I will make a day of it and show off my stunning body. Sure, little Fido may be sensitive, but I’m proud of this thing I got going. Don’t you think my half-leggings draw even more attention to my nice tummy? I certainly think so. I could be pregnant but…no, I dunno, I just don’t think so! Note the awesome walk-dog-behind-body approach, so that passers-by get a look at me first, followed by my baby. Dog, that is. What’s wrong with you?

Verdict: Nothing is due for a long, long time.



Yes, it’s true. I am one of the few, the proud, the only, in fact, to be on here and to be criticized about being too THIN instead of, well, you know. A bit husky like other people on this site.

I can’t help it if I’m thin.

I can’t help it if I will not have to go on a diet after giving birth.

I can’t help it if I’m thinner with child than most chicks without.

I can’t help it if I don’t suffer from pregnancy-onset kankle syndrome.

The story here? Don’t give ME crap just because you can’t look as awesome as I do, with child or without. I’m just one of those woman who can eat anything and everything she wants and never have to pay for it. Some preggers chicks have all the luck.

Verdict: Obviously preggers. Why are we still talking?


If you think that this picture title is a compliment, you’re wrong.

Here’s why: Martha Stewart, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t have a great body. She’s got those skinny legs and a skinny top, but her waist and stomach bulge. It’s not ’cause of food. Don’t you always wonder why she’s always pictured behind counters and tables? She’s trying to hide that middle portion.

Me? I don’t even try to hide it. In fact, I try to make myself stand out with a bigger belly and a lovely beige rag–double the layers–to showcase it. In fact, I look like a teenager from the bottom…the cool slim shoes…the slim pants…and then BOOM! You hit my midsection with a visual and audio component that I’ll leave to the reader. Plus, I’ve got decades on all of you, so me being pregnant is out of the question.

Verdict: Preggers? Most certainly not. Tummy chub? Most certainly.


Ah yes, nothing like an evening stroll, the lights fading in the darkness, the silhouettes against the beautiful night sky. I am here, I say, in all my glory. I am bringing you the 30tiered wedding cake! Whereas most females only have one bump in the upper chest region, or two if she is pregnant (or fat), I have three…it’s like my very own triumvirate tummy. I assimilate my fat layers to cake layers; 3 separate tiers provide 3 delicious varieties of fat: Upper, mid, and pooch, if you will, and I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination. Hey, we all deserve the best, and I just figure that my three layers against the twinkling stars provide a true, multi-dimensional viewing experience.

Verdict: If you have 3-D glasses, put them on now for (non) full-frontal flab.


Ok, so it’s pretty obvious that this picture is overwhelming. There are so many bright colors that the eye doesn’t even know where to go. Reds! Oranges! Pinks! Cabbages! Wait, I had several in my shopping bag…did I accidentally put one in my belly, or is that a kid in there?

Oh, I think it’s a kid. I mean, with this huge and bright dress, it’s not like I can really avoid it that well. If you have any doubts, just look. I mean, my bump is totally anatomically correct and if you ask me, one can’t look much more preggers than I do here.

Verdict: The bump is in the right place and I’ve never been accused of shoplifting cabbage.


Where do I even start here? Where? Something’s just weird about me here, there, and everywhere. Is it because I have a wicked huge forehead, strangely reminiscent of a man’s? Is it the country club-esque sweater that’s knotted around my neck, but on closer inspection actually looks like a big black neck-flower? Or is it the fact that I seem to be holding my breath and grimacing, so much so that if I did have a baby inside, which I’m pretty sure I don’t, I would be denying it the necessary flow of oxygen to its tiny brain? Whatever the reason, I sure as heck wish I really was pregnant, for it would explain my quite inexplicable top-heaviness. And wideness.

Verdict: Certainly not pregnant, but certainly creepy.


Some fail to realize that the orginal Horse Blanket™ was meant for horses, not adults. I am one of those some. You see, I’m way past the point of getting on Pregnant or Fat and convincing people that I might be pregnant. My age says it all. But really, was it necessary for me to go to this extreme? It’s a fairly warm night, and I live in a city (You actually thought I owned a horse?! Heck no! I just went to a tack shop and lied.) and am convinced that this is posh. My hands sit delicately on top of my hump, and my purse gently cradles my underbelly, which could, in a time and place several decades ago, hold a new life.

Verdict: At least pick a better color. And yes, the whole ensemble is age-appropriate if you want everyone to know you’re pushing 90. Now can we insert a carrot joke?