Here’s my last trip to the Publix:
ME: I’d like a 1/2 pound of Boar’s Head Ovengold Turkey, please. (It’s good stuff, you should try it.)
Deli Meat Counter Lady: When are you due?
ME: Ummm….about 3 weeks.
DMCL: So, you’ll have July babies?
ME: Well, he’s due on June 26th, so it could be July, but hopefully not.
DMCL: There’s only ONE???!!!! But you’re so BIG!
ME: Uh, this is my third kid. The turkey is all I’d like, thank you.
By the way, the deli counter lady was too short to see over the counter so maybe I looked especially large to her because my stomach is at eye level in her world.
Then I walked by the butcher counter, but I did not stop, make eye contact, or look at any meat. The butcher called out to me and yelled, “It’s a boy, isn’t it? I can tell. Is this your first?” I mumbled something about it being a boy and my third and I’m due in a few weeks and kept walking toward the juice aisle.
The lady bagging my groceries also said she could tell it was a boy because she had three of her own. I didn’t realize that procreation gave you medical diagnostic powers.
What in the world makes people think that they can discuss my physical appearance? Hence the taste of blood. I’m getting tired of biting my tongue.