The first email I saw this morning was from one of my best friends — and the subject was, “I can’t believe it.”
And, thanks to iPhones/Gmail email preview — the next thing I read was, “Did you guys know I’m pregnant?”
And then I almost pooped my pants.
Turns out, she’s not. But some moron in an elevator thought she was, and asked her when she was due. And I can say with some certainty, that she doesn’t even look a little pregnant. Her theory? “Maybe it’s because my boobs look huge today? That’s what I’m going with.”
The best part though — she said she almost made up a fake due date to spare this woman’s feelings. But then — because we hate this lady, clearly — she opted not to. The sad part is, I’ve considered doing the same thing before (and then going home and throwing out that top/dress) but I usually couldn’t do the math fast enough in my head to make it believable. I’m pretty sure if you’re really pregnant, you know right off the top of your head when you’re scheduled to HAVE A PERSON.
Also, seriously — screw that lady. Let her be uncomfortable.
And really, people, unless you can see a head starting to crown, I don’t care how pregnant someone looks — don’t ask them when they’re due, or what they’re having.
Speaking of babies, I was invited to attend a PCOS webinar last night, which was really helpful and informative. And as a result, I think I’m changing my plan of attack on the let’s-make-babies front, and transitioning to a new practice. Also, all those jokes I make about how I’ll probably have quadruplets? Apparently incredibly likely. Holy crap.