Don't Ask

First


I was standing behind the receiver with a rum and coke on the table behind me. I changed deck one, over to deck two and hit play. An instrumental version of “Queen of Hearts” began and the yellow typed words rolled across the small television to my left. The woman on the mic opened her mouth to sing, but it came out as a gin-soaked yell.

I turned the mic down and the monitor up and turned to recover my cocktail. Rotating with my drink I found my self face to face with an intoxicated patron who yelled at me over the receiver inquiring whether or not I was pregnant. I lifted my drink and an eyebrow and I shook my head. He didn’t apologize or elaborate, he just walked away.



Then

Missy, Brett and I were at the Triple Rock when we got a call from my kid sister who happened to be baby sitting Missy’s son, Alec. She had been giving him a buck on her bicycle and wiped out. Now we had to rush home to take him to the ER. Leaving Brett behind, we hauled ass to my house. I was wearing red heals and a strapless black dress with white polka dots and a red ribbon around the waist. Missy was wearing something equally impractical, though I don’t recall exactly what. We picked up Alec at my house and drove straight to the hospital without stopping to change clothes. So we were sitting in the waiting room to the ER at Unity, decked out in our rockabilly swag with a five year old boy who is bleeding everywhere.

And there’s a girl, maybe 10 years old, sitting with her mother in the waiting room also. She looks at me “Are you pregnant?”

At the time, I was. I had just found out. I was 6, maybe 7 weeks along.

“Yes!” I said astonished at the girl’s intuition, “How could you have known that?”

“I can just tell,” she said.

I wasn’t sure if she was psychic or just a presumptuously kid who thought I looked a little chubby in my sexy dress.



And then

I was headed to punch out. Waiting at the time clock was a man who had been on my team the previous year. He was an overt hippy and a vegan to boot. We chatted while we waiting for the minute to pass before we could clock out. Right before the moment struck, he turned to me and asked if I was expecting.

“No, Rick. Just fat… fat from all the tasty meat I eat.”

He apologized quickly and we went our separate ways.



Then again

I was standing at the counter in PetSmart with my family with my clasped hands hung loosely in front of my stomach. The cashier had to get a number from the fish department regarding the purchase we were making. While she waited, she looked at me and asked how for along I was. I let my face become confused and shook my head, “I’m not…”

Before I could finish she was all over apologizing. I made sure I left looking really sad so that she knew better than to ask another woman that EVER.





Again

Walking back from lunch, I was stopped outside my friend’s aisle finishing our conversation as we often do, when the lady who sat by her was about to walk passed us. She was about four feet tall, and much older. She stopped and looked up at me with her head cocked to the right.

“Are you expecting?”

My eyebrows furrowed. I shook my head. She apologized profusely.

I still plan to ask her at some point if she’s having a hot flash.



And again

It was my first day in a new position at work and I was being introduced to the fifty or so people with whom I would be working. Molly, the girl I was replacing, brought me to each desk to meet the team.

About half way through the group one of the male reps asked, “Are we eating for two?”

I said “Excuse me?” as if I hadn’t heard and allowed my face to become horrified at the realization. I shook my head slowly and walked away to the next group of people. One of the women who sits near by came over and tried to smooth it out by saying that the question was intended for Molly. But he had been looking at me, and I knew what he meant.



And again?

It was flu shot day at work. So after lunch Steph and I went upstairs to get our dose. One of the HR ladies was helping with all the paperwork. We signed our waivers and got our shots all within ten minutes. Then when we were leaving, the HR lady asked me to stay for a moment.

“Is your family expecting a new brother or sister?”

This was a woman I really liked, and she’d just ruined it. I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

Of course she apologized, but she didn’t seem quite as embarrassed as most people had.



The Latest

One of the ladies on our team was standing with me and a few others in an aisle. When everyone had either walked away or turned their back she looked at me and whispered a question while pointing at her own belly. I. shook. My. Head.



There have probably been more, many more that I’m just not remembering at the moment. Bottom line is that no one wants to associate “you look pregnant” with “I get that all the time.” Yes, I could do crunches everyday till I cry. I could stop eating, stop slouching, or stop wearing baby doll tops that could be misinterpreted as maternity clothes. I could get cosmetic surgery, or I could even actually get pregnant. I’ve always had a pot belly, even when I was at my thinnest. While I may be heavier than I should be now, I know that no matter how much I work out (and I do) my tummy will still stick out just enough to cause suspicion. This is something that SOCIETY has to change, not me. It’s not about ME or MY body. It is about people needing to know something badly enough to risk hurting someone else’s feelings. For fuck’s sake, ask a FRIEND. Don’t ask the girl directly. Or better yet, DON’T ASK AT ALL.