So, it happened again today.
Nate and I stopped by a monogram store to drop off a bunch of gifts I needed personalized for Christmas. As I filled out the form about which font and thread I wanted while I held Nate, who was having a particularly clingy day. Yes, you’re picturing this right: a full-sized toddler wrapped around my middle while I balanced my purse, the bag of gifts, and the shop owner held the paper slipping away from my one hand.
“When you due?” the shop owner asked.
“Um…maybe next Saturday?” I figured she was asking when I wanted to pick up my gifts. Which, actually, was a dumb assumption, because why would she not know how ask the most common question in her business?
“You have baby next Saturday?” she asked incredulously. It should make me feel better she was a bit incredulous. But it actually doesn’t make me feel that much better because I’m as close to being nine months pregnant as the Pope is.
“No. I’m, um, actually not pregnant.”
“YOU NOT PREGNANT?” Unfortunately she was even more incredulous about this. “You sure?”
Now I kind of wished I was pregnant since I desperately needed the gifts monogrammed on-time and wanted her to feel good about being right.
“Oh, you’re right. I forgot,” I wanted to say. “I’m actually six months along.”
Instead I said, “Nope. I’m sorry. I’m not.” I looked back down to finish the form. It’s then that I saw what she saw, and I realized why she assumed I was pregnant. With Nate clinging to my upper torso, and my jeans sliding off my non-existant hips, my four-kids-stretched-out skin and muffin top made me look…six-months pregnant.
Looking pregnant is a little-talked-about problem with having a thin frame, especially if several c-sections have obliterated your abdominal wall. Do normal-shaped women have this problem? I don’t think so. They have hips that hold up their jeans. They have curves to soften their collapsed abdominal walls.
This weekend, when I was flying home, being skinny caused another problem (by the way, are you a little like, “Yes, you flew someplace, now STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR TRIP!” I know, I know. I don’t travel much. When I do, I feel the need to overdiscuss it.)
Anyway, I was so cold. The airplane had some sort of malfunction with the AC and everyone was fanning themselves and complaining to the stewardess (who had taken off her blazer) and asking for ice water. Not me. I’m always cold. I pulled my fleece out of my backpack and ordered hot tea. And still shivered.
Speaking of which, look at this picture. I just took it with my computer’s camera. Can you see I’m wearing three layers? If you could see out my window, you’d notice it’s 86 degrees in Houston today. 86 degrees, three layers, and I’m cold.
I really hope this post doesn’t sound like forced suffering, like I’m writing about what a pain it is to have so many diamond rings because it’s such a drag to constantly clean them.
There are pros and cons of every body shape.
I get that it’s nice I can confidently order clothes on-line or shop off clearance racks because I know most anything will fit me…
….as long as I don’t mind looking six-months pregnant.
