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Mar. 7th, 2011 | 09:50 pm

 Lately I’ve been a little sensitive about my size. I am a pregnant lady, no doubt about it. And this is my third time being a pregnant lady so I should be used to it by now.


Every day last week, every day, sometimes twice in a day, someone has made a comment about my size.

“Whoa! Are you having twins?”

“Holy cow. Any day now, right?”

“Oh my, you are gigantic. Does it hurt to walk?”

One lady in church, across a crowded room said, “Oh my gosh, Ann Dee! You are huge! When is that baby coming?”

I sort of flipped out right then.

TWO MONTHS! I yelled. TWO MONTHS!! ( the whole room staring at me now). AND IT’S NOT TWINS! I added, for effect.

She nodded. Okay. Okay.

I turned, my head held high, and waddled out of the room.

In the car I told my husband about it.

I may have over-reacted a few minutes ago, I said. About my, umm, size.

You? Over-react? Never, he said.

Ha ha ha.

The day before we had been out raking up leaves, getting ready for spring. I’d leaned over to pick up a pile and my pants split. My only comfortable semi-wearable maternity cargo pants. Split.

I gasped.

Cam and the boys looked at me. What? Cam said.

Look,I said, showing him the hole.



You just did that?

Yes, I just did that.

Then he started laughing. LAUGHING.

You’re laughing?

Uh huh, he said.

You. Are. Laughing.

He nodded. Kept raking. Why would you wear those pants to do yard work anyway. You should have changed into sweats or something.

The boys were staring at the hole in my pants and I was seething.

Later. When we’d moved to the front yard, I said, sweat pants?


Sweat pants.


That’s what you say when your pregnant wife has an extremely dramatic event happen to her.

Extremely dramatic event?


What did you want me to say?

Maybe something like, oh I’m so sorry. Or, it doesn’t matter. It was probably just the way you bent over. Something, you know sympathetic. Why do you have to always respond to me like a man?

He looked at me. Why did you split your pants like a man?

Let’s all take a moment to think about this question.

What does this have to do with writing? Nothing. So why am I writing it? I don’t know. Did I start laughing after he said this? yes. Do I think I’m a little irrational and overly-dramatic? Maybe. Does that make me a better writer? Probably not. I just wanted to warn anyone who may see me in the next eight weeks . . . beware and whatever I say, don’t take it personally. I’m not responsible.


P.S. Who wants a writing marathon?

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Comments {2}

The Gab

(no subject)

from: gab
date: Mar. 8th, 2011 07:44 am (UTC)

LOL! I am so sorry, Ann Dee! That is so horrible! I would have cried right then and there and probably yelled at my husband and went and hid inside the house. That is terribly traumatic!

But uhh... yes, I would love a writing marathon!

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Why did you split your pants like a man?

from: kellyrfineman
date: Mar. 9th, 2011 01:47 am (UTC)

I apologize for laughing at your pain.

I remember all too well how cranky I got in the final two months of both my pregnancies - and how strangers thought they could touch my belly (WTF?!) and friends said inappropriate things. Pregnancy involves a loss of almost all personal dignity. Sorry about that, but it is how it goes.


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