Dear Boobs - I miss you. I am sorry I never appreciated you for who you were before this man child took residence in my belly and in his macho ways decided to morph my chest into pornographic appendages. You used to have an air of grace and confidence about you, now you look like you are carrying the heavy burden of having to feed this baby also known as the second coming of Simba, (though the Disney charachter was never so devious as to play his black magic on his mother's body).  We've both made sacrifices for this first born boy.

With great resolve and a slowly growing savings account, I promise to bring you back to your original shape with the help of a good boob doctor, great pain killers and a week or so of inebriation. It may be several years before we see each other again, but I will recognize you, as I have your image etched in my brain. Until we meet again, I will keep Peaches and Herb's 1979 classic tune "Reunited" on replay...

Dear Tummy - you are not fairing so well in this baby making endeavor either. I promise to attempt a few short lived ab routines to reshape you after the baby is born. You served me well during the mid-drift bearing early 90's, but lets face it, Daddy likes the boobies better.

Until we meet again...~MotherShip