Ouch, That One Hurt

Between my mother and father's family genes, I was destined for a short stout frame or a tall slender one with a little tummy poking out. As you can guess, I ended up getting the tall slender frame with the tummy. It is not a chubby tummy, it is a taught pregnant-like belly. My grandfather and great-aunt have the extreme versions of the "Wright-gut" and my father works out like a fiend to keep his at bay. Myself, I've been self-conscious about it, but never made much effort to get rid of it. That was until I was asked if I was expecting.

Allow me to set the scene:
Customer Service at Bed Bath & Beyond, being rang up for humidifier filters (not at all baby related). The woman who rang us up was the same woman who set up our wedding registry two years ago and did indeed remember us.

I have given her my coupon, we have talked about how we survived our first year of marriage, I swipe my card, enter my pin and as she hands me the receipt, says,
"Oh! Are we expecting?!?!"

As I stuffed my receipt in my purse, head down, muttering "No" I was mortified. On the verge of shock and tears, Sir Sunderland and I raced out the door before she could even get any more awkward with "Oh, how I wish" or something completely retarded and just as offensive.

Sir Sunderland tried his damnedest to console me with explanations of how that particular woman has always been creepy and said inappropriate things, but nothing can erase what happened. Not even the sweetest girls at work telling me that it must have been the humidifier filters.

So I suppose the moral of the story is that if you've ever been pissed at your parents for the body they gave you, just thank god you weren't given a stomach that can be mistaken for being pregnant (thanks for that one Dad!).