I was in my doctor's office this morning for a regular OB appointment when a man who works behind the front desk—a lispy, aging-pretty-boy whom I've always found to be slightly bitchy—exclaimed over my appearance: "Look at you! You're getting so big!"
What does a person say to that, when they're 31 weeks pregnant? Other than "No shit, Sherlock", I mean. I nodded vaguely and smiled. "When are you due?" he asked.
"Early February," I said, and that's when he said. It.
"Just one in there then?"
As opposed to six or seven wriggling fetuses, which could clearly be the only explanation for my MONSTROUS GIRTH? I've heard of people saying this sort of thing but come ON. It's not like this guy works at Men's Wearhouse, he presumably sees pregnant women all the time. And while I may have rounded out
a little bit somewhat a whole lot recently, come ON. COME ON.
The thing that thankfully made this little Hallmark Moment officially funny as hell, instead of embarrassing and, you know, a little hurtful, was the woman sitting nearby who heard the whole exchange, shot her eyebrows somewhere up in the stratosphere at his comment, and leaned in to me to say, "Girl, he craaaaaaaazy."