I have had a lot of strangers say some really hateful things to me throughout my life. I will never understand why, but I literally have been walking down the street or through a bar and had people pass within one or two feet of me, look me dead in the eye and say things like "ewwwww!" or "what an ugly bitch." It's pretty horrible, and every time it has happened I have been left stunned and confused. Sometimes it's almost funny, like when I was working at a department store and encountered a little girl who looked at me, screamed "monster!!" and then ran away, or when a clearly clueless guy asked me when I was due (years before I actually got pregnant). I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor about myself, especially considering I'm the one who controls my weight (or doesn't control it), and self-deprecation is definitely my specialty, but there are some things that just cut like a knife.
Tonight I was in Coldstone because I had been fighting a sweet tooth all day. I know, I know, I went out buying ice cream so I was basically asking to be called fat, but whatever. Listen to the damn story. I was buying a couple containers of different flavors to share with my husband and roommate and a friend was in town so I kinda figured there'd be a freezer raid at some point. So I was stocking up. While the girl was packing my order, I was watching this adorable little boy in line behind me. He was probably about 4 and was super excited about all the different flavors he got to choose from. He was there with his dad, which for some reason made me smile. Until he turned around and stared at me.
Boy: Is there a baby in your tummy?
(this is not the first time I've been asked this so it seriously didn't phase me. Plus this kid had the cutest little lisp so I just smiled)
Me: Nope, not anymore.
Boy: Why not?
Me: Because she got too big so she had to come out.
Boy: Why did she have to come out?
Dad: This is not a conversation I want to have with him any time soon.
Me: Oh, ok. Sorry.
Boy: Why is your tummy so fat?
Dad: Trevor! Don't be rude! I'm so sorry, miss.
Me, laughing: Oh it's ok. I guess I've just had too much ice cream.
Boy: It's a REALLY big tummy!
Dad, turning beet red and yanking the boy behind him: TREVOR! I am so, so sorry.
Bitch girl at the counter: So did you still want all three containers?
The most embarrassing part is that I was in an ice cream shop, of all places, and it was full of seemingly fit people. Nobody else in there was fat, except me. And I was ordering three fucking cartons of ice cream. Needless to say, I canceled the third and only got two, which is still embarrassing given the situation, but I just felt like shit. I was spiritually crushed by a 4 year-old. I kept smiling and reassuring the dad that it was okay, kids say the darndest things, blah blah blah, because it wasn't his fault and he was very clearly mortified. I always said that as embarrassing it is to get asked if you're pregnant when you aren't, it has to be even more embarrassing when you're the one asking.
I left there trying to hold my head high and act like I wasn't bothered. I think I deserve an Oscar for my performance, quite frankly, because I cried on the way home. I didn't eat any ice cream. Instead I told my husband the story, took some Nyquil and started blogging. Because that's the fastest way to stop being called fat, to take OTC cold medicine and sit on your ass feeling sorry for yourself.
Whatever. Baby (not in my tummy) steps.
