(Two posts in one day??? It’s called Starbucks.)
With winter coming on, I am finding myself, increasingly, walking like a penguin. It has something to do with winter coats and something to do with being 5 months pregnant (errrr…ya think?). But wrapping up my burgeoning belly has gotten onerous. It’s gotten to the point where I normally let it all hang out, a la Dad. But for some reason every female in existence has found it expedient to rub (yes, there is motion involved here) my belly. I know this is a common complaint of many mamas-2-be, but I have yet to hear a creative way to respond to these drive-by-rubbers. One that doesn’t involve throwing my shoe at their head. One place I read said that, when spotting an incoming rub, one should hurriedly step out of reach and explain that one “just doesn’t feel comfortable with people touching my belly”.
First of all, the idea that pregnant women can do anything hurriedly (except polish off an entire pint of Haagen Daaz) is laughable. Not everyone is aware of just how much a 2-ton belly can interfere with your balance. Secondly, aren’t humans supposed to be OK generally with people touching us? I mean, we shake hands and hug and stuff, right? But culturally, we’re one of the more reserved, physically- no kissing on the cheeks or hugging between men, that sort of thing. And yet we Pregger Ones must mildly sit by and beam magnanimously while various types of patting, rubbing, and stroking ensue, while simultaneously echoing the cooing raptures emanating from the toucher.
It may be something cultural, but random touching from people whose last names I don’t even know is…wierd. And the sad part for mammas is that, along with a semi-inebriated lack of balance, we also have “mommy brain”, which means we can’t even come up with anything witty to say, like “BACK UP, PSYCHO, AND HANDS OFF THE GOODS”, or “DO I LOOK LIKE A RABBIT’S FOOT?”, or “!@*&!*#%!!”. Which might, you know, alienate some
potential shower guests people.
So what’s a gal to do?
Cute and cuddly, ladies, cute