She was a total stranger to me. Well, I say total stranger but I had seen her on numerous occasions manning the self-checkout stations. She was always very attentive to those self-scan machines and there had even been a couple of times when she was beside me before my red light even came on for assistance (I don't know why I do those things--- I always need help). It was like the other times- she was busily pushing in her little code to make the machine happy again and then she asked the question. You know, the one that no woman EVER wants to be asked unless they are glowing from actual with childness. "Are you expecting?" I think I surprised her with the heartbroken look on my face. We both stared at each other awkwardly because she realized I was not. "No. I'm not." I couldn't see my face but I couldn't imagine it being more red than hers. She stuttered for a minute and then said in an exceptionally obnoxious southern accent "Don't take offense, hun, I was just going to help you lift your groceries." I said something ridiculous afterward like "Oh, no problem. Thank you for asking!" (Who says that??) And then I left in a hurry for both of our sake. Man, oh man, was my Ed going crazy. That was grounds for so many behaviors and all of them were running through my mind. Just a laxative or two, go for a run in response to that question, drink a boatload of water to flush some of that "pregnancy" away, eat a big giant brownie because I already look pregnant so it doesn't even matter. Yep, I gave them all consideration. But, in the end I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered why it mattered so much. Why did I care so much what that lady thought? I was pregnant. 7 months ago. For 9 months. And it was worth it.
I did put that shirt in the back of my closet.
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