Today a janitor at work whom I hadn't seen for many months asked me if I was expecting a baby. This was the first time this has ever happened to me -- barring, of course, all the times when I actually was expecting a baby.
After inquiring about Isaac, the janitor patted his own midsection and asked, "You gonna have another one?" I thought he was teasing me, so I laughed and said probably eventually, but that since Isaac was only just a year old I wasn't in a rush.
It didn't even occur to me that he might have been misinterpreting my pudgy stomach. Not, that is, until I got home this evening and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I did look pregnant! (It was after dinner, to my credit.)
So I can't blame the poor guy for asking. Ironically, the more overall weight I lose, the more disproportionate and therefore pregnant I appear. I lost a few pounds when I was sick recently, and most of my body is currently a size six. My stomach and breasts persist, however, at a more robust size. They'll be the last to go. It's like first hired, last fired.
No comments:
Post a Comment