It was a dreary February in 1978. Unemployed, living in Austin, Texas, and seven months pregnant, I wasn’t barefoot, but the stacked-wedgies on my feet were pinching my toes something terrible. Searching for gainful employment, I pounded the pavement knocking on one door after another and soon found out that nobody in the advertising business wanted on-camera talent who was so big she, “Mooooed.” Someone even joked that a woman in my advanced inflated condition might get stuck between a washer and dryer, or God forbid drop her load while on camera.