Seems like Ashlee Simpson has been pregnant forever but she still doesn’t even look that big to me. How much longer? Are we there yet?

This is Ashlee leaving after dinner the other night with an expression that a shrew like me can only interpret as: Ugh. Get this thing out of me.

My friend DT is due in January with her second. She’s been ready for, like, months. Thank God for girls like DT who don’t paint pregnancy in every shade of perfect and palm trees. Please! There’s something growing inside of you giving you gas and labial elephantitis!

I know you can’t wait to meet your child and all but please don’t sell me on engorged flaps, sometimes onesided, and tell me it’s the most pleasant experience ever.

This is what Ashlee Simpson is saying to me. She’s telling me she’s uncomfortable. Maybe she’s gassy. Maybe her flaps have grown to the size of cauliflower. Doesn’t mean she isn’t excited to have her baby because obviously she must be… but it does mean I’m not having one ever.

Engorged flaps.

That’s all.

Photos from