Like Kate Middleton, Pregnant but Thin So you're due, what -- next week? Whoa -- you having twins? You're only three months pregnant? Because you look six. We all know those are things you shouldn't say to a pregnant woman, but did you know that the following comments are also not welcome? You're pregnant? Wow, I can't see anything. When I was in my second trimester I was [pantomiming a zeppelin] this big. Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, who had people wondering if she was too thin to conceive months before her pregnancy was wrenched into the public eye, now has critical eyes trained on her physique asking whether she's "too thin to be pregnant." I'm in my second trimester with my second baby, and since I'm presenting small (er) at this particular time, those are the kind of comments I get when people find out I'm pregnant. Believe me, this is not a humble brag. I don't find these comments complimentary. On the contrary, they make me feel abnormal and that I'm not eating enough for the baby's health. "I have wide hips," I respond apologetically, "I carry the weight everywhere." But inside I'm panicking, "The baby's growing, right? Since I have an uneasy feeling that I once said similar things to pregnant friends, I know people are not trying to be insulting or hurtful - at the very worst, they are simply being thoughtless - but it is yet another unfortunate indicator of how overly obsessed we are as a society with what's the acceptable or ideal look for our bodies; even our pregnant bodies. When I was pregnant the first time around, I got similar reactions about how small I was or how I didn't look pregnant enough for whichever month I was in. And I didn't like them then, either. I didn't preen over how svelte or in shape I was, I got anxious, even though my obstetrician told me I wasn't genetically predisposed to have a large baby. The measurements at every doctor visit showed the baby was growing, so while that reassured me, I still waited for each appointment to get that reassurance. Between those visits, I gritted my teeth when my belly was pronounced to be on the small side. Quite the opposite of veering into "pregorexia" territory where pregnant women engage in extreme dieting and exercise schemes, I reveled in fat slices of coconut cream cake and developed an impressive appetite for hamburgers. My belly may not have been blossoming, but everything else was. The average pregnancy weight gain is 35 to 45 pounds. I gained 39, and clearly carried it in my hips, thighs, breasts and chins. I wasn't a skinny pregnant woman, okay? I just didn't build out a bodacious belly - the one area where you really want to gain weight. When Henry arrived 12 days early -- full term, but still catching us slightly by surprise -- the prediction was that he was already over six pounds. At 5 pounds, 10 ounces, he wasn't underweight by medical standards, but he was small. His minute frame swam in the newborn clothes that we supplemented with preemie-wear, but he was healthy and he gained weight quickly. However, a few weeks after he was born I got an unexpected phone call: the necropsy of my placenta. I didn't even know people got these results, but I did. The doctor informed me crisply, "Your placenta was really small. We don't know why. No sign of infection or clotting issues, but still, it was really small. I didn't know what to do with that information except freak out in a postpartum-y way by fixating on how a midwife once waxed hippie moonshine on us about how amazing it is that the female body grows a new organ just for the baby! Apparently, I didn't perform this womanly task very well, and there was no way to find out why without putting me through a barrage of expensive and potentially inconclusive tests. "We'll just keep an eye on you," my obstetrician counseled when I asked what this meant for future pregnancies. Now, here I am with a second pregnancy, small and anxious. And again I'm getting the commentary on how I look. I don't think every friend or preschool parent truly wants to hear the details of my potential placental production problems, but if they insist on commenting on how far along I don't look, they're going to walk away with more information than they expected. If you're groping around for something to say to a pregnant woman, here are some ideas: "You look great." How are you feeling? Dude, haven't maternity clothes come a long way since the circus tent and muumuu era of our mothers? Just don't tell her how large or small you think she looks. Please.