The Land of UBRs

A UBR is an Unauthorized Belly Rub.

I just can't (and don't intend to) understand the fascination with pregnant ladies' bellies. Never in my entire life have I felt compelled to reach out and touch someone else's belly -- especially not some stranger! Lately though, I have become acutely aware of this crazy phenomenon.

To date I've been the recipient of three UBRs. The one that started it all I already talked about in an earlier blog. When the second one happened, not only was I speechless, but I felt powerless to stop it. I had gone out for happy hour with a couple of my friends, and we ended up meeting up with a couple of guys who knew one of the ladies. The two gentlemen were nice enough. One -- The Offender -- actually knew quite a few of the same people as I did, so we had a great conversation. After I finished eating, I called it a night early. Before I left, I hugged my friends and shook the hands of the two gentlemen.  As I was shaking The Offender's hand, he reached in, touched my belly -- which you could barely see in my too big for me dress -- and told me to take care. Seriously? A UBR... in a bar? I only met him that night! Neither of us has had that much to drink in less than 90 minutes that would make conditions for a UBR appropriate.  Once again though, it happened so fast, that just as I became enraged that it was happening at all, it was over.  Traumatized, I took my belly shopping. We got some cute things from Baby Gap.

The next one was even weirder. I went to get my eyebrows waxed. I hopped up on the table and assumed the position. As I lay waiting for the technician to begin, she started asking me questions. Boy or girl? When?  Then. It. Happened. She didn't just touch it, she RUBBED it as if she was making a wish!  And all the while, I was trapped on the table and couldn't -- more correctly wouldn't -- leave because my eyebrows were a bushy mess!  But no tip for her!

What blows my mind is there are people who have actually confessed their obsession with wanting to touch my belly, but have refrained at this point. Let me repeat:  They are obsessed.  Stop the madness!  What for?!?  I just don't get it. And when I asked what was the big deal, the response blew my mind. One explanation in particular began with a scene from a science fiction movie where the kids are touching those balls with the electrical current flowing through it. You remember them, right?  The ones where the current move to match wherever you put your hands. What came next was even more mind blowing...something about feeling disconnected from the "supreme power," and because there is a life growing inside me, touching my stomach would make them feel more connected to this so-called "supreme power." Can we say cuckoo for cocoa puffs! Now, what do you say to that?  I know one thing, based on that confession and obsession, I'm even more against you touching my belly! I don't know what kind of vibes would be passed on.  Hell, even Kyle's asks before he touches it.

As I said before, it will happen again.  I've accepted that.  But, I can't even fathom what my response will be like when I'm pushed to my breaking point and go off. 

Pray for me...and them!



A sampling of shirts I found at www.cafepress.com to address the issue. Which one should I get?

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