This is Nate. He’s seven weeks old.
Seven weeks ago he was intertwined with my innards, and I was as big as a house.
Since then I have lost 22 pounds. I feel great. No one knows how taxing pregnancy is like a newly non-not-pregnant person. When I was pregnant, I looked like I was under distress.
Strangers would stop my in restaurants, and shout, “When are you DUE?”
So, now, seven weeks later, I’m really enjoying looking like a normal person again.
Until Monday when a woman stopped me in the mall and said, “When are you DUE?”
I wanted to say, “This is Nate. He’s seven weeks. And now you have hurt my feelings so profoundly I have to drown them in ice cream.” But I just said, “I’m actually not pregnant.” To which she said, “REALLY? Nooo! Really?”
And then yesterday we ate dinner at Jason’s Deli. Walking back from the potty with Ellie, a woman called to me, “When are you DUE?”
Luckily the ice cream was close by, so when I called back, “Not pregnant!” I could easily douse my hurt and embarrassment in a bowl of chocolate.
Maybe all that ice cream is causing the calories that cause the confusion.
Or maybe, I should tell them the advice that M. swears by concerning women with a little something extra around their middle… “Unless you see a baby emerging from her body, NEVER ask a woman if she’s pregnant.”
So true.
