It wasn't until months after my son was born that I could admit I gained 50 pounds during my pregnancy. I preferred to say 48 -- as if two pounds made a difference -- but it did. Fifty is, well, halfway to one hundred.

I'd also like to say that I'm not sure how it happened, but I think it had something to do with my cravings for Kopp's custard and a deep hormonal need for cheesy hot sandwiches from Koppa's FulBeli Deli.

The worst part was not that I started wearing maternity clothes in my first trimester, rather the comments that came later.

My favorite was the "Are you sure you're not expecting twins?" comment. I got it often, even at Wal-Mart. But instead of telling the cashier to kiss my still-a-size-six butt, I went out to my Jeep and wept. I'm sure this was meant lightly, but to a girl with a beanbag-sized belly, it's not even slightly whimsical.

"You're not due until September?! You look like you could 'go' at any time!" was another goodie. Again, why I internalized this comment instead of saying "hopefully my water will break all over your gnarly bare feet" is beyond me.

Other annoying comments included "Wow, you look ... healthy," "I never got THAT big," and one very confusing, "You look great! Really big, but great!"

Now I've always heard that Milwaukee is heavily populated (pardon the pun) with overweight people, so why, oh why, were my pregnancy pounds triggering so many comments -- especially from other women, many of whom had children?

Once I delivered a nine-and-a-half pound baby boy, I realized I had gained so much weight because I needed to build a "big house" for my big baby. And I admit that I was secretly relieved Levi was a chunk, because if he had been a six-pound peanut, it would have meant that most of my weight gain was due to the sinfully creamy scoops of caramel cashew and spoonfuls of Jiff I ate right from the jar.

Even though the pounds started melting off days after the delivery -- thanks to my insatiable son who seemed to be practicing for a breastfeeding biathlon -- I was still bothered by the comments I had garnered during my pregnancy. Once I started talking about it, other women admitted to experiencing the same thing, even if they had only gained the recommended 25-35 pounds. One expecting friend said a coworker told her that she was gaining a lot of weight in her neck and face.

What's going on here? We routinely hear that Milwaukeeans are "nice" people, so why aren't we going easier on the preggers population?

The lack of lady-to-lady kindness during pregnancy is particularly perplexing. I'm tempted to step onto a very sturdy soapbox and preach the need for sisters to support one another, but instead I'll skip the sap and say this to both of the sexes: If you really want to make a comment to a woman with child, "You look awesome" is always a fine option. Either that, or a very sincere "What's the flavor of the day?"