“I"ll never get back to a size four!” Margaret dangled two dresses in front of the mirror, debating which was the more appropriate one for her mother-in-law"s birthday party. “Any preference? I can"t believe I still don"t fit in my pre-baby clothes.”
Matt stopped mid-crunch and cranked his head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, observing Margaret half in frustration, hiding the amusement half to avoid further angst. “Ah, my beautiful wife. You gave birth less than a week ago. You"ve spit out four children in five years. No one expects you to achieve your fighting weight anytime soon.” When Margaret scowled as though he called her a heifer in a muumuu, Matt retreated both in action and words. “But you"ll always win the Miss America pageant for me no matter what you wear.”
“Nice save, player
