A funny thing happened on the way to the gyno....
Stop me if you've heard this one before. You probably have. It's the one about the pregnant woman? The fat one, who looked like shit and was huuuuuuge....
Sisters, you wouldn't BELIEVE the things you hear when you're knocked up.
Too big, too small, too fat, too tall. OK, not really too tall. Although "you're wearing those shoes" seems to be acceptable. It's not. Neither is "are you having twins?" Or "your face has changed". Or "you're carrying in the back"....
"I liked your hair longer" is never OK. Pregnant or otherwise.
And then there's the age-old question: "do you know what you're having?"
I'm guilty of it myself. Sometimes I ask out of genuine curiosity. Or for lack of something else to say. Either way, when asked myself, I couldn't believe some of the comments. Especially for this last pregnancy. When I knew what I was having. But didn't tell. It's kinda funny when someone asks and you know but they don't know you know. And then they get all cocky 'cuz they think they know. But they're wrong. And it's a fun kind of smugness. Y'know?
Girls don't steal your beauty. Or make you puke more. And boys don't make you hairier. Or give you heartburn. Some of 'em do. Some of 'em don't. It's all one big crapshoot.
When you have two boys like me, people assume you're going for girl. And you know what they say about ass-uming, right? I heard it all. And knowing what I had and what I was having, I can tell you people can be downright offensive!
No we did not try for a girl - we tried for a baby. We didn't think pretty thoughts. No specific timing or tricks were involved. It's easy to theorize about gender. But you get what you get. And we counted ourselves lucky with our boys. A girl would be great. But so would another boy. I had one stranger tell me it'd be nice to have a girl, "for when you're old". Huh? Talk about pressure on that poor daughter. Besides, who needs to have a daughter for when you get old? You can hire someone else's daughter to wipe your geriatric ass!
The Boy People don't like girls. They like to tell you mean things about their own daughters. That they're moody. Or bitches. Or cost a fortune. I heard one freak-show tell me her daughter was hormonal. At 2?? There aren't too many of these types around -which is a good thing, because they're rather off-putting.
Chinese horoscopes, ring on a string, mathematical calculations...It all means nothing. Only one thing does: H-E-A-L-T-H-Y B-A-B-Y
So please kids, next time you see that pregnant lady, offer her your seat. Carry her bags. Bring her a sandwich. By all means, ask her what she's having....but leave it at that. No stats, no verbal makeovers, no presumptions. And never, ever, EVER play the name game. Admit to nothing. You like 'em all. Congratulations are welcome. As are good wishes. May the labour be quick. And the weight loss be quicker. Leave it at that.
As a wise sage once said: Smile 'n wave, boys; smile and wave.