The Tipping Point

I’ve been feeling a bit surrounded by babies lately. My boss’s boss’s wife just had a baby girl on Thursday. My friends Dave and Valerie had a baby boy on Friday. I attended a baby shower for a co-worker on Friday. Even though I was happy for her, I did just about burst in to tears at one point when they were holding up the incredibly cute little girl outfits. Then when I left the shower, there was a guy standing at the elevator telling someone how he and his wife just found out they are having a girl. And my sister-in-law will be having her baby soon.

So, babies, babies everywhere. And I’m happy for all of them, really, even the random stranger by the elevator. Until today, when I saw two stories that just put me right over the edge. First, Sasha Baron Cohen and Isla Fisher are having a baby. Why do I care? I have no idea. Obviously, I don’t know them. He’s pretty funny (although I have not seen Borat) and she seems like a decent actress. I’ve never really thought about either one of them all that much, but for some reason, the fact that they are having a baby got under my skin. And then, well then I saw this story about the rumor that Nicole Richie is pregnant.

Seriously, universe, if that is true and Nicole fucking Richie gets to be pregnant and I don’t, we are going to throw down. How can someone that thin even ovulate? And yes, I know no one ever promised me life would be fair, blah blah blah, but damn.