Friday, March 16, 2018

The Ten Minutes I was Pregnant.

Okay, so as the title reads, I was 'pregnant' for 10 minutes...but unlike most women who are happy to show off their bun in the oven, I wasn't so proud of it. Let me explain....
Not pregnant.  Just fat.

I had a pinched nerve in my back that was made worse with my scoliosis. So for about two to three weeks I was in pain and walked a bit funny and had a hell of a time getting in and out of cars. This happens to me every so often so don't get all squishy on me. I'm a big girl and I deal with it. BUT....I was out and about and I had to stop on the way home to pick up something from the grocery store; I don't even remember what it was, it could have been something for supper, some milk or a box of goddamn delicious Ho Ho's, whatever, it's irrelevant. I really debated stopping because I just wanted to get into the comforts of my home to nurse my back. But I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and looked for the closet place to park and of course...there wasn't one...except for the two parking spots designated with signs that read "For Expectant Mommy's" emblazoned with storks carrying babies.

I drove past the spots a few times and at each pass, they were empty. Every other spot was full or waiting to be snatched by fevered Saturday shoppers. I just wanted to grab my crap and leave. I wasn't doing any major shopping because my back wouldn't let me. There were a few handicapped spots open but I wouldn't DARE pull in one of those. People are judgy. Hell, if you're caught walking to and from a car with a handicapped placard you damn well better have a  limp, crutches, be walking a seeing eye chicken and have no appendages; or you are given the evil-eye from every person in the lot. And if you don't have a placard and you park in a handicapped you are just the biggest piece of shit in all of the grocery store world. It's true! I've talked smack about people who park in handicapped parking spaces and I don't really give a shit about anything!

Sooo...I thought long and hard about my bad decision and decided...ten minutes or less. I won't take up that much time and besides, I've driven by this spot four times already and no chick who looked as if she swallowed a basketball has so much as looked at these spaces.

I pulled into the 'with spawn' space and gingerly slid out of the car as not to anger the lumbar spaz gods. I know I was walking a bit strange because of my issue but as people shuffled across the parking lot and cars crawled by, I realized I couldn't walk out into the store looking.....not pregnant. So I decided, that since I was already going to hell, I might as well play the part. I pulled back my shoulders and distended my belly so it resembled that of an Ethiopian who recently had a sammich and clamped my fat ass cheeks together to give me some support. I think I looked about mmmm....3, maybe 4 months pregnant.

I waddled into the store and prayed to whatever God would listen that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. Come on, what I was doing wasn't hurting anyone. I simply wanted to get my shit and split, easy peasey.

Yeah, not so much. I got as far as the produce section and a chick I hadn't seen in years was standing dead in front me staring me in the face. I turned my head but the bitch called me out.
 "Hi, how are you?"  Her beady little eyes focused on my protruding gut; what she thought housed a tiny human really was actually gestating the masticated remnants of two chili dogs and some fries. I gave her a fake smile and simply answered, "Fine." I purposely didn't say, "and YOU," because honestly, didn't care. I just wanted to get my shit and get out of the store. But, I since I was already in deep, I decided to continue my charade. I grabbed a bag of onions and said, "The kid likes em. It likes dog food too. Ooh that reminds me..." I said, as I quickly shuffled away from her. Luckily she didn't follow. That'll teach someone who I haven't seen for a while to talk to me when I'm faking being with hot dog child.

As I made my way to the frozen food section, I got a bad spasm in my back that stopped me in my tracks and put me up against the freezers.  An older, grandmotherly woman stopped and asked me if I was okay and then asked when I was due. I had no clue what to say to her. Since I've never been pregnant, I don't know how far along my fat gut looked. I tell her that I'm okay. And I babble something about, 'In my family, we carry our babies way past term. I'm on 13 months and counting. It should be another month so.' I smile at her and continue down the aisle with a bit of vigor. She's older so I know she won't be able to catch up with me for further interrogation.

At this point, I figure this isn't even worth it anymore. So I ditch my bag of onions, deflate my gut and make my way out of the store and guess who is standing at the exit? Yep, the same chick from produce. Goddammit!  She stared at my lack of belly and gave me this "what the fuck" look.  I was busted, so I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, "Ehh...I guess it was just gas. I feel bad for the poor bastards in aisle 5."

TWINS!! They look just like their father!

I didn't wait for a response. I just kept walking until I made my way out of the store to the parking spot I shouldn't have snagged--and sped the hell out of there.

Let me tell ya...being pregnant is a lot harder than it looks. 

Oh yeah and never fails me.

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