New York Times rich people beat reporter, billionaire-marrier, possible orgy enthusiast, and over-sharing plastic surgery addict Alex Kuczynski is expecting! Expecting a surrogate mother to carry and deliver her baby, that is, according to Liz Smith. Alex and her ridiculously wealthy (and ripped) husband Charles Stevenson have reportedly tried "several times" at this child-having thing, to no avail. Stevenson has five children from other women, a set-up the Kucz has commented on with approval on other occasions. (All you have to do is cheer them on at graduation—no weight gain or unseemly marks or scars!) So, we ask you, the Gawker readership: who on Earth is currently feeding and growing the spawn of the Amazing Plastic Woman?

A tipster asks, "will the spawn have Kucz's real nose?" And we want to know: is Alex really incapable of carrying her own child to term or does she just not want to? An unfair question perhaps, especially to ask of a 40-year-old woman (is it also unfair to mention that? Pretty sure her birthday was a couple weeks ago!), but a look at the Kucz's work and public statements presents a character who might just not want some sort of fattening, nutrient-sucking monster gestating in her toned stomach.

Back in 2004, Alex presented us with one of her trademark anecdotal investigations into the things her rich friend talk about at lunch. The subject: Pregnancy Paranoia. Did you know that you have to give up certain of life's pleasures during the nine months of pregnancy? It's true! Rich women have read as much on the Internets!

''Well, you know you can't wear an underwire bra,'' one young mother announced.

''No thong underwear,'' said Cricket Burns, the style director of Quest magazine and a mother of two.

''Or Botox,'' chimed in another young mother.

Mushrooms, said Jessica Friedberg, a mother of two perfect ZIP-code-10021 children.

The warnings tumbled forth: Tanning spray. Hair dryers. Acrylic nails. The J. Sisters. Cellphones. Then the waiters delivered dessert, a gooey chocolate soufflé with a mousse center and a side of crème anglaise.

Ms. Burns looked down, and in a voice lowered to the tone a Norad officer might use to announce the approach of nuclear warheads, said: ''And . . . no . . . chocolate . . . mousse.''

And salmon! And sushi! Why on Earth would any person ever want to do this to themselves? Especially where there are fools out there willing to take that fetus off your hands until its ready to be cooed over and swaddled in diamond-encrusted imported silk blankets.

Congrats Alex and Charles!

Journo Awaits Stork [NYP]
The Nine Months of Living Anciously [NYT]