Repeat after me:
“It is NEVER okay to ask a woman if she’s pregnant.”
Apparently, I never got that memo… or the follow-up memo that states that I should be offended if asked.
I’ve lurked on pregnancy message boards, envying those who bemoan the constant belly-touchings of strangers, hourly “How far along are you??” questions from co-workers, and claims that their 3-month pregnant tummy-pooches are too big for their pre-pregnancy jeans.
I’ve strolled through maternity clothing stores at the mall, observing how sales associates flock to the perky-bellied expectant mothers, exclaiming how adorable they would look in this season’s palazzo pants… all the while four months further along than they are and yet seemingly invisible to those same clerks.
It’s not because I’m not pregnant… I’m due in just 10 days with my third child.
It’s because I’m fat and pregnant.