The problem with people today is they have no manners. Nobody has been taught basic people skills and it makes life awkward for the rest of us. It’s not hard people. Read some old Ann Landers columns. Or I don’t know, use your fuckin’ head for something besides a hatrack! If you don’t think before you speak you can create a total shitstorm which will not end well for anyone.
Yeah, I’m talking to you chatty cashier who thinks it was a good idea to ask me when I was due. No biggie right? She’s just making conversation, acting interested in my life and wants to share in the joy of my pregnancy. Here’s the thing, I’m NOT pregnant. Not even a little bit. In fact, I’ve been completely un-pregnant for over 11 years. WTF lady? I admit I am little fluffy around the middle, that does NOT mean I am growing a human! Ever heard of pie, Bitch?
I had just finished putting my mountain of groceries on her conveyor belt when she asked that obscene question and I knew I was going to be there for a good 15 minutes or so. Do I tell her that I’m not pregnant? That is going to make for a very awkward 15 minutes. So I try to do the math in my head. First I have to figure out exactly how pregnant I look and then based on that when my due date would be. So if my muffin-top looks like I’ve been gestating for about four months that would make me due in… Here’s the thing, math is hard even when you aren’t trying to figure out when your ghost baby will be born and I end up sounding like an underage kid who is buying beer and gets asked for a birthdate. “Ummmm….. October?”
I guess it sounded a little too much like a question because this lady who had the audacity to assume that I am pregnant now has the audacity to look at me all judgey because I sound a little too unsure of my pretend due date. In for a dollar in for a dime so I rub my belly and say “We couldn’t be happier” I nod and smile and I think she bought it because she asked me if I knew if it was a boy or a girl. Crap! more math, am I hypothetically far enough along to know what the sex of the baby is? Oh, wait. I can just say no!
“We want it to be a surprise”
She nods and I rub my belly again. Thank God we are coming to the end of the groceries. She rings up the Coors Light and doesn’t ask for my ID. Evidently I am fat AND old. Yep, feeling pretty good about myself right now which is probably why when she rang up the bottle of Merlot I said,
“Wow, I’m gonna need some of that tonight!”
Crap! The judgey look is back.
“but obviously I’m not going to have any because I’m pregnant. Duh! It’s for my husband. He likes to chase his Coors Light with a glass of Merlot. That’s the kind of guy he is.”
Then Rude Cashier Lady really blows it by topping off her bad manners with even more bad manners. She neglects to ask me if I want help out with my groceries which is inexcusable as she thinks I am pregnant and possibly drunk, both good reasons for someone to have help out with their groceries!
Thanks for the ego boost lady! Now come October I am going to have to waddle my fat ass back to the garden center to check out so I don’t have to explain why I don’t have an infant…and still have a belly.
Himself is completely unsympathetic. “Maybe if you lay off the pie a bit . . .”
Uh, hello! I’m eating for two!!!