This is one of those things that's completely incongruous about me. I have a (borderline psychotic) fascination with pregnant bellies. Not the meaning behind a pregnant belly - life, future, BABY, blah blah blah - but the actual physical belly itself. I can't even explain it. A pregnant belly is just so round! And so big, so bulging, so bulbous! So out of place and yet so perfectly in place, you know? The curve is so soft and the size becomes so extreme and there is just an unexpected beauty.

The friend we were visiting in Boston is 4.5 months pregnant - the really cute pregnant stage in which the baby bump becomes the ultimate fashion accessory. (I mean, have you seen the maternity clothes at Target? WAY better than their regular stuff. And don't even get me started on A Pea in the Pod!) The entire weekend, I could not stop staring at her belly. I absolutely could not have a conversation with her without darting my eyes down at her cutie-patooty bump (and then quickly back to her face because, seriously, only freaks gawk at pregnant bellies). I now know how men feel when they're supposed to be looking us in the eyes but keep sneaking glances at our boobs. It's an irresistible urge, people! It can't be helped!

I have seriously considered subscribing to Plum magazine just for the photos. Borderline psychotic, like I said.

I've had this obsession for a long time, actually. I've always maintained that I'd love to be pregnant but not actually have a child. Yes, I realize that pregnancy is more nausea and severe discomfort than it is glowing skin and people giving you a seat on the bus. It's not that I idealize pregnancy - it's just that I find the belly so lovely.

I have this odd fantasy of being a pregnant bridesmaid at Doreen's wedding. Because my god, what is cuter than a pregnant bridesmaid?! Doreen and I have looked at maternity bridesmaid dresses and everything. We've, um, even calculated the month I would need to conceive in order to be in the cute pregnant stage at her wedding. (You can imagine how Rob reacted to my announcement over dinner that "Doreen and I have decided that you and I need to conceive next March in order for me to look super-cute at her wedding. How's March 10 sound to you?") Borderline psychotic, like I said.

But don't go marking your calendars for March 10. We're no closer to wanting kids. But I am about thisclose to buying a prosthetic pregnant belly.