Goodbye, Happy Hour -- Hello, Happy Meal!

For efficiency, your paycheck is now direct-deposited to Disney.

Hubby drops to #2 on the list of people drooling at the sight of your breasts.

Finally, someone you can beat at "Got Your Nose" at least for a year or so.

You develop a liking for minivans, sensible shoes, and a deep-seated contempt for Michael Jackson.

You hate strangers asking to touch your round little belly now that you are just FAT.

Cases of Bud Light quickly are replaced by cases of Butt Wipes.

Junior looks adorable in his little "sandbox", but the cat is seriously torqued about it.

The closest you come to ecstasy is when you think of sleep.

HoneyHoney's Country Girl Hullaballo
http://www.oocities.org/bornhoney/