If you follow me on Facebook, you already know of the verbal assault I experienced last week. For those of you that don't, A: START! and B: let me fill you in.
While making a follow-up appointment at my Dr's office, the nurse scheduling the appointment stopped working to ask me, "When are you due?" I instantly replied, "I'm not pregnant. I'm just fat." I know, you are all cringing right now because this is like the lowest form of female torture: the false pregnancy identification.
To make matters worse, she proceeded to insult me even further by telling me it must just be my dress that makes me look pregnant. So, not only am I so fat that I appear pregnant enough for you to comment on it public, but it is my fault because I wear clothes that accentuate my fat in a way that makes me look pregnant? Um…OK. That just totally made this whole sitch less awkward. Not.
To top it off, I wasn't even at my gynecologist's office, where the mistake could easily be taken as just a, "Hey, most of the women in here are knocked up so I just assumed you were too. My bad." No, I was at an endocrinologist's office. An office I was visiting specifically to see why the hell I keep gaining weight exponentially. ESPECIALLY IN THE BELLY AREA. If that wasn't the biggest bag over the head, punch in the face I ever got. Way to kick a girl while she is down and feeling at her worst, lady.
Though this may have been one of the more painful ones, this isn't the first time someone has mistaken me for pregnant when I was not.
The Grabby Kathy
Before I was even thinking about kids, I walked up to a lady at work to ask her for something. She immediately squealed at me. I asked her what was wrong. She squealed again and then looked at my stomach. After me still not getting what she was aiming at, she proceeded to put her hand on my stomach and ask me if I was excited. I responded, “No, I am not excited. I am not pregnant and now I have to throw away a brand new dress and never talk to you again.”
These People Are All Dead Now
A week after I had The Quiet Contemplator, I had to go to a friend’s art opening. I thought I looked pretty damn good for having had a baby a week earlier until not one but THREE separate people came up to me and said, “Damn, when are you going to have that baby already?” To which I replied, “I had her last week.” To which they responded, “No seriously, when are you due.” Me, “No, seriously, I had her last week.” Insert sound of crickets chirping. Commence hysterical tears.
The Ghost Baby
While holding a friend at work’s six-week-old baby, a coworker came up to me and said, “Wow, I didn’t think you were that far along again.” I said, “I am not. I had my baby eight months ago and I am not pregnant again.” But thank you for making me feel like a huge fat a$$ that looks seven months pregnant again.
I think, from now on, unless a woman has a baby dangling from an umbilical cord hanging out of her vagina, let's go ahead and give her the courtesy of not asking her when she is due, shall we? Better safe than sorry.