/bypass

You’d think, that working at a plus size store, you’d learn some discretion when it comes to guessing whether or not your customers are with child, or just with fat. As much I would like to be pregnant, over the option of being with fat, I am stuck with the larder.

When I was ten, I wasn’t that fat. I was chubby, and in the early 90’s this was probably just as bad as the morbidly obese two year olds that you see on Dr. Phil now-a-days. (don’t get me started on how sad that is). All of chubby ten year old me was in the bathroom at my old church, which was almost as shady as the lady who walked in while I was washing my hands. She asked, “how old are you?” and I replied “almost eleven” (because we all know that *ten* is a baby number) and she said, “well, Mary (as in the Hailed) was 14 when she was pregnant with Jesus” and I blinked at her because I didn’t really know what she was going the hell on about. Then she asked, “When are you due?” and I said “I’m TEN YEARS OLD and I am not pregnant.” Then she went into the stall to squeeze out her hail marys and I cried buckets of tears. FREAKING BUCKETS.

Today while shopping for a dress for a friend’s wedding in June, I felt pretty damn good about myself. I floated around the store in a purple get up, showing the employees my glorious new figure. Or so I thought. Upon trying to choose the right kind of pantyhose the retail associate said, “you might want to go for maternity” and I said, “hell yeah, more comfy, I hear ya!” trying to shake off the fact that she was being sorta lame. But no, her lameness went further. “Well,” said the impertinent retail associate, “you will be even bigger come June!” and I said “God, I hope not! That’s sortof the opposite of what I want to be.” I was still kinda not understanding what the hell she was talking about. I mean, COME ON! So she answered my confusion by saying, WHILST TOUCHING THE BIGGEST PART OF MY STOMACH, “Oh my, I thought you were pregnant.”

There are several things wrong with this situation.

A. It’s a plus size store, asslady. You don’t assume EVER. EVER-ER. never.

B. She touched my stomach AFTER she realized that I was not pregnant. What are you hoping to feel exactly? Fat doesn’t KICK, idiotface. Unless it’s my fat leg, kicking your ass.

C. AGAIN, like I was when I was ten years old, I DO NOT LOOK PREGNANT. I don’t get it. I mean, yeah when I was ten I cried buckets because I was hurt, but then several gazillion people assured me that crazy lady in the bathroom didn’t know what the hee haw hell she was talking about and that she must have been blind. Again, at 25 years old, having lost almost 80 pounds, I sortof look…almost normal. Yes, I have a lifesaver underneath my boobs, but how is that even close to what a pregnant person looks like in their blossoming state? DOES MY FAT GLOW FOR YA, BEOTCH? My stomach does not even come close to looking like a NORMAL pregnant belly.

It’s a dang shame that my body is WEIRD LOOKING right now. The only place that hasn’t shrunk is the much mentioned inner tube. I don’t  know why - I don’t really care to be honest, It’s no biggie (well it IS but i mean no problem) It’ll go when it’s ready.

In other news, I found a dress! And it’s beautiful! I look very non-fertilized in it, which is fortunate.