However, I did have some reservations about how billowy it was when I put it on this morning. But I convinced myself that my lack of fat face, arms the width of thighs, and acne would assure strangers that I was not pregnant and that this was just “the style”.
I could not have been more wrong.
As soon as I got to the post office, a man rushed to get the door for me. Rushed. I tried to dismiss that until the same thing happened on my way out.
Later, at the grocery store I noticed not just one, but at least five different women check out my stomach. And they didn’t even look unsure. They would just look at my stomach, look up at me, and smile. A conspiratorially procreative smile.
Then at the checkout I tell the checker to ring me up for a case of water as well. He immediately runs off to get my water for me (something that is never done) and then intercoms that I need help out!
“Oh, I don’t need help out. I can lift the waters.” I tell the checker.
He looks at me, hesitating.
“Are you…sure…you can?” he asks.
“Oh, you mean, can I be trusted to put my own groceries in the car since I obviously cannot manage to make fashion choices that do not make me appear pregnant when I AM NOT?”
Okay. I didn’t say that exactly.
Actually, I said “I’ll be fine” and pushed my cart out of there feeling part idiotic and part strong fearless fertile woman.
The only way I could have looked more pregnant today would be if a child were actually crowning in the produce aisle.