If you do, take cake… I mean care… (I don’t, I mean cake.)
Pastel colours are not your friend. Because neither are #preggosweatpatches
Pregnancy is your excuse for being late / early / at the wrong venue / not turning up at all and / or not in a fit state to mix with other humans when you arrive… if you manage pants it’s a very good day… If you manage pants AND mascara it’s probably your birthday.
Avoid patronising advice from fellow travellers by avoiding eye contact… ‘oh you can tell it’s a boy just by looking at my bump…? Well. I can tell you’re a c@*t just by looking at your face.’
When using public transport, cough loudly near a seat you’d like to occupy, then fart once seated to clear the seats around you too… and relax.
No coffee. Nothing to do with the caffeine… it’s just not worth the 73 additional toilet breaks you’ll need to compensate…
You’ll probably be feeling a bit uneasy behind the wheel of a car by now. Drive like a total twat to compensate. Yes you CAN use that lane to turn left, because you are GROWING A F@*KING HUMAN.
If you can’t park close enough to your end venue, you are well within your rights to simply give up and go home. Because you are GROWING A F@*KING HUMAN.
Basically you can do whatever you bastard well like, because you are GROWING A F@*KING HUMAN.