Oh Shut Up Already!

Throughout my entire pregnancy I've heard a couple statements that all women -- not just pregnant ones -- relish hearing:  "You're so small!" and "You're not big at all!" Most times though, instead of elation I feel ashamed as I walk myself through a serious of questions that make me question my own sanity on regular basis:  Am I eating enough to feed the little boy growing inside me? Am I gaining enough weight? Have I been working out too much? What am I doing wrong?  I mean, I think I'm huge...why don't people see what I see?  Like other women, I've endured a warped sense of self and the occasional unhealthy body image. So I don't need anyone fretting over me about how big (or little) they think I ought to be at this point in my pregnancy. It's taken me the last 34 weeks to get used to everything that's happening with my body so I can at least attempt to keep up the pregnancy glow and exuberance. Kyle tells me I'm beautiful and look great all time, and I had finally gotten to a point where I actually believed it.

All of that came crashing down at the CVS on 4th and H St in Northwest DC.  Since being pregnant I've noticed that not only are people more apt to violate your personal space (UBR count to date = 10), but they also feel compelled to say all kinds of random things that you wouldn't normally hear from strangers on the street. In aisle 6 as I searched feverishly for some pregnant-lady friendly cold medicine, I was approached by the older lady responsible for bursting my bubble. "Gosh, you're SO big!" And as if saying it once wasn't enough, she stood there and repeated it like four times! Are you serious? I wanted to smack her, but rather than make a scene in the CVS, I just kept smiling through clenched teeth thinking that if I maintained my composure, she would go away. Nope!  Instead she started asking questions and making conversation.

Lady: What are you having?
Me: A boy.
Lady: No wonder you're so big.
Me: Huh?
Lady: I knew it was a boy.
Me: Really?
Lady: Yeah, you're carrying all tight and neat. You'll be back to normal in no time.
Me: Good to hear!
Lady: But you are big!
Me (in my head): Oh for heaven's sake!

She finally just walked away. I said she was older (which can be a breeding ground for crazy), but Kyle and I have deduced that she was probably drunk or high. In either case, she put me in a mood that led me to eat only watermelon and a half a bratwurst as we watched the fireworks. I'm sure that wasn't enough, but hopefully I filled the void the four bottles of water I consumed. I'm good, right?

The lesson here is pregnant chicks are sensitive, so just shut your mouth! Say we're too small and we're paranoid. Say we're too big and we're hurt. You can't win, so it's safe to say you can stop trying and we won't be mad at you for your silence. But if you're looking for something to guarantee niceness, my weaknesses these days are fresh watermelon and air conditioning. Either of those will keep you from dying -- literally and figuratively -- and may even bring the absent smile back to my face that's usually reserved for when I'm making fun of other people.

In temps teetering between 90 and 100 degrees with outrageous humidity, it's going to be a long six weeks!