So.
I had this situation happen to me the other day. I was in Duane Reade, standing in line to pay for ice cream (yes!) when a man (also in line) reached over and patted my stomach.
“Ooooh. How far along? Boy or girl? I have three!”
Hmmm, right? Thing was, he was around my age so he wasn’t old school nor was he like a four -year -old boy. He was just some dude in his thirties. Muy peculiar. Truly.
Anyway. He was rubbing away in a clockwork motion and I was just a little stunned. So *I* said the following:
“What?”
He continued to rub. “When are you due?”
“Due? What?”
He stoppped. “What?”
I then said. And this is where it becomes ballsy…
“I’m not pregnant.”
He looked like he saw the Shining twins behind me and quickly removed his hand from my large stomach and stood forward – looking forward. Thinking forward. Tick tock, tick tock.
Thankfully, not too long after that, the clerk was ready for him. He paid and got the eff outta Dodge.
Me? I walked to the counter and turned to the two women behind me. “I’m 8 1/2 months along but he should NOT have done that.”
Boy did we laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.
A woman with a tub of ice cream telling a man she is not pregnant after he rubbed her protruding stomach…that was me. Darn proud.
I walked home and they sky was like this violet/cobalt blue and the moon was in a crescent. Everything seemed just fine. I pay attention to the colors and shades around me often but that sky was really just magical. I felt as if I had things under control at that moment.
You know what I mean?
