Artem.

You spent a long time persuading your husband to go to a prenatal yoga class with you. Artyom grumbled for days about how awkward he'd look, but he finally agreed, promising to be serious.

However, just before leaving, he suddenly disappeared into the bedroom, and a minute later he appeared with a large gym ball hidden under his T-shirt.

"Since I'm going, I want to fully experience what it's like. I need to fit in with the team."

Proudly sticking out his "belly," Artyom began walking around the apartment, holding it with both hands and miming the gait of a pregnant woman. You just shook your head, barely holding back your laughter.

During the class, my husband decided to go further. He diligently repeated each exercise, sighing dramatically, complaining of "lower back pain," and periodically asking for a short break because "my stomach is too heavy." The instructor couldn't hide her smile, and the other girls were practically crying with laughter.

When the lesson ended, Artyom finally pulled the ball out from under his shirt, exhaled tiredly and wiped his forehead.

— That's it. I'm officially one day pregnant.

— How do you feel?

• Now I admire you even more.