So, when you’re pregnant I’m finding out that people looooooove to talk about my bodily functions and habits that are, at all other non-pregnant times, completely inappropriate. Such as: “How much weight have you gained?” “Should you be eating that?” “Do you puke a lot?” And we can’t forget, in more or less words: “Are you planning on expressing milk from your ta-ta’s and offering it to your child?” Things I only want to talk about with my doctor or my mother. Or possibly other previously pregnant friends that I’ve had over for dinner at some point.
So the other day, I was out shopping with my sisters. We had just finished a long lunch and were in the car, headed to IKEA to buy cheap dishes. It was taking a little longer to get there than I anticipated, and offhandedly I stated that I needed to use the restroom. And I love my oldest sister for saying this outloud: “Don’t you hate it when people look at you like, “Oh, the pregnant girl has to go to the bathroom!” When really you’re just human. And humans have to go to the bathroom every now and again. So annoying right?”
And she’s right! All of a sudden my bathroom visits are monitored and noted (subconsciously at least) by those around me. So weird and slightly disturbing if pondered for too long.
I also don’t like the looks I get from waitresses after I order a milkshake. What? They’re delicious!
I will say though…with all of this privacy invasiveness…I find it oddly comforting that there are those that just want to know, and want to know how I’m feeling and how excited I am. Because, they’re excited too. It also doesn’t bother me at all when people touch my tummy. (If my arms were longer I’d reach out and touch theirs at the same time though. Hey. Fair is fair.) Some pregnant ladies really hate that, but maybe since I’ve been a little person my whole life and have had to deal with my share of curious questions, it’s nice to have the attention taken away from my short legs and towards my growing baby.
Also, I have add this little story:
I walk Stella every day around Batavia. People are starting to take notice, and it’s not uncommon for them to stop and say “I love your dog!” I’m thinking about having Stella run for mayor during the next election. Anyway, so the other day we were returning to the house and a lady in a Durango stopped, rolled down her window and shouted, “Hey! What’s your name?” I responded. She comes back with, “Are you with-child?” And I said, “Yes, I am.” And then she goes on into her story about seeing me around town and her granddaughter needed a talkin’ to about how I am a grown woman who is with-child. If we had been able to linger a little longer, I am positive this lady would’ve asked what my blood type was by the end of the conversation. It cracked me up.