If I had a junk bond for every time I laughed when something happened to someone else only to find that when it happened to me, it was very unfunny, I would be rolling in the damn dough.
The latest: Oh, ha! ha! ha! someone asked you if you were pregnant when you weren’t? OUCH, but oh-so-funny when it happened to you. However, when someone asked me if I was expecting a baby the other night, guess who didn’t crack a smile and then had a hard time eating her dinner because clearly I must look poochy (at a minimum) or fat (more likely)?
It’s not clear to me why she asked me if I was expecting. I was so surprised that I said, “you mean, a baby?” She nodded affirmatively. Had I not been holding my 20-month-old son, I probably would have affirmatively shown her how I felt about her question. I like to think I answered graciously when I mumbled something like, “No, but I would accept that blessing from the universe.”
Rest assured, I was thinking, “Are you seriously so socially awkward that you just asked someone as insecure as I am if she is carrying a child in her womb? Are you trying to make me relapse in my eating disorder?”
No, gentle readers, I didn’t say any of that.
But her question got inside of me, and I started to feel and act pregnant. Seriously. I felt nauseated, extremely fatigued, and irritable as only the newly pregnant can be. This morning I almost convinced myself that I should pee on a stick. I had decided that her comments were a sign from GOD that maybe I was pregnant even though that’s pretty impossible for reasons I won’t go into here, since my mother-in-law reads this blog. (Hi, Carol!)
I was so worked up about “probably being pregnant” that I experienced bona fide disappointment later today when I got my period. (Oops, TMI.) I sat there staring at the situation feeling like someone who was hoping she was pregnant, but must deal with the ocular proof that she’s definitely not.
I blame the women who asked me if I was pregnant.
Maybe I missed the moment when society agreed that we could ask those kind of questions of acquaintances. Did I? I don’t read the newspaper enough, so maybe that social law passed while I was busy blogging or eating pudding.
But if it’s up to me, not asking women if they are pregnant is still a thing. It should be a thing as long as I am in the category of women who might procreate– say, another 6 years. After that, feel free to ask me because I will take it as a compliment that you still think my eggs could make a little person.
Til then– ixnay on the are-you-pregnant inquires.