When I was about 8 months pregnant with my first baby, Nanette, we were living in Hawthorne, California, a suburb of L.A. Kent worked for Hughes Aircraft and they had a Christmas party in a ballroom of a big hotel. I couldn't stand wearing panty hose with being pregnant and was excited to find something new called "thigh highs". They had elastic at the top which was supposed to keep the nylons up. Everything was going well at the party until I was at the buffet table and felt the thigh highs slipping. The ball room was huge and I was praying that I could get back across it without them falling down. I started out with a prayer on my lips but apparently without enough faith because half way across they were around my ankles and I tripped my way back to the table trying not to cry. (Remember, I was 8 months pregnant.) Luckily the table cloth was long and I think I managed to get them off, but the party was ruined for me, and thus ruined for Kent. Poor man.
(By the way, I remember doing everything possible to make myself look more pregnant for this picture because I was so small as everyone was continually telling me! The doctor said I must have a built in incubator because a week after this picture I delivered an 8 lb. 3 oz. baby!)
P.S. No comments about the mullet please!
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