that blessed part when i can no longer leave the house without someone, somewhere commenting on my lovely lady lump.
not since middle school, when the boys would chant "roses are red, violets are black, why is your chest as flat as your back?" down the hallway after me, has my personal physique been such the fodder for public discussion.
just a few days ago, in the checkout at the grocery store, the cashier said to me, "wowzers! when were you due?"
and i wanna be like, "look, lady, where do you want this conversation to go? either i am past due, and probably feel like crying my eyes out about it, or i'm not past due, and now that you've so subtly compared me to an overextended balloon, feel like crying my eyes out about it. so roll the dice: which would you rather it be?"
instead, i just smile and say, "soon."
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