Kelly Clarkson Already Got That Fetus She Wanted for Christmas

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Years before Jennifer Lawrence became everyone’s first-round draft pick in Fantasy BFF leagues the world over, Kelly Clarkson was winning hearts and minds with her angelic voice, girl-next-door sensibilities and willingness to tell industry titans like Clive Davis to kiss her (unashamedly) ample ass.

So when she got married a month ago, pretty much everyone did a collective “d’awwww.” She said she wanted to be knocked up by Christmas — and by God, when Kelly speaks, ovum listen.

BOOM.

Assuming she wasn’t holding a dripping pee stick when she typed that and instead observed the customary “don’t announce until the second trimester” tradition, that means she’s been knocked up since roughly the third week of August — which is exactly when she and then-fiance Brandon Blackstock announced they were ditching their plans for a big wedding and eloping instead.

They didn’t officially tie the knot until Oct. 20, but in the days directly before and after, Kelly said they wanted behbehs immediately and that Brandon’s peen was on call at all times to make it happen. Which was pretty strong foreshadowing for “yeah, I’m already preggers but it’s none of your damned business just yet.”

Normally I don’t much care about the state of celebrity uterui (it’s the plural of uterus because I say it is) but this particular pregnancy is worth a mention. Because admit it — you’re already a little jealous of that kid.

The Tabloids Are Still Trying to Put a Baby in Jennifer Aniston

Maybe it's like a wish. Say it enough and it comes true.

Maybe it’s like a wish. Say it enough and it comes true.

The whole obsession with celebrity wombs is creepy enough, but the laser focus on Jennifer Aniston‘s and its contents (or lack thereof) is particularly bizarre. The only people who should care that much about what goes on in there are Jennifer, her gyno, and anyone in a position to hang an “occupied” sign on her vag.

But every time she makes a movie and then pops up on talk shows and red carpets to promote it, the world scrutinizes her midsection for literal signs of life. She’s 44 and engaged now. It’stime, everyone says, as though she made them a promise she’s yet to fulfill.

What you see above is Us Weekly‘s current cover story — a story Jen’s publicist has flatly denied. That said, her mouthpiece is a known liar (read: good at his job) so there’s still speculation Jen and fiance Justin Theroux are in the family way.

As to why they haven’t announced it publicly, an Us insider said, “She is scared of having a miscarriage, given her age, so they are not saying anything until she is six months along.” As further proof of her knocked-up status, the magazine reports she’s been drinking only water at “We’re the Millers” premiere parties and wearing clothes designed to camouflage her growing tummy.

Her red carpet gowns of late — with patterns or ruchinghave been a bit unusual for someone who famously favors dark colors and simple silhouettes. But one getup featuring … well, whatever this is seemed to be the fashion equivalent of flipping the bird at anyone trying to force a pee stick under her.

It’s worth noting that the Us cover story is nowhere to be found on its website — usually an indication the editors discovered the story was untrue after the issue went to press. For the record, Jen says any belly bulge is from a baby of the food variety.

There are always people who snipe that she’s courting the knocked-up stories for publicity, and maybe she is. But if that pisses you off, here’s the cure: STOP CARING ABOUT WHAT’S IN JENNIFER ANISTON’S DAMNED UTERUS.