Thursday, February 3, 2011

"You're having a girl." No, no I'm not.

Yesterday marked the tenth time that an absolute stranger has told me that I'm having a girl. I get that a lot. Here's just one example from the supermarket yesterday.

Me - giant pregnant lady waddling down Aisle 7, minding my own business, trying to buy some crushed tomatoes.
Her - old lady, I'd say 70, clearly wants to say something to me and finally does...

"When are you due?"
"In about two weeks."
"Wow, she has really dropped. I mean, really dropped."
"Yes, I know."
"You're having a girl, right?"
"Ha, ha. No, it's a boy. But I hear that a lot." Like, all the time.
"Are you sure it's a boy? It really looks like a girl."
"Well, three doctors have confirmed it's a boy..." ...and they probably have more medical degrees than you.
"Well, if that's a boy, he must be huge. Like really giant."
"Ha, ha. I guess so. That won't be easy!" Keep smiling, she's just an old lady.
"I'm guessing you could have a 10 pounder."
Tight smile. Is there really a response to such a thing? Maybe, 'well, thanks a lot.'
"Are you sure you aren't having twins? My friend's daughter thought she was only having one and then during delivery, out came twins!"
"Wow, that's crazy." Really, I've never heard such a crazy story. Good thing I have competent doctors.
"Well, whatever you do, you have to have more than one. The kid can't be alone. It is very bad for them."
"Oh, I know, isn't that the truth." Really lady? You know nothing about me and now you're telling me that a) I look giant enough to have a 10 pounder, and b) I better get pregnant again or she's going to come after me and call me a terrible mother.

At that point I smiled and told her I hope she has a good day and went off with my crushed tomatoes. And I have to say, the penne pasta with shrimp in creamy vodka sauce was delicious. Maybe I will have a 10 pounder...

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