A Favorite Simple Salad & Pregnancy Crazies

a Favorite Simple Salad
Romaine
Marinated carrots
Black olives
Roma tomatoes
Cucumber
Olive oil
Vinegar
Touch of brown mustard

Despite eating a bunch of salads and not a ton of much else, I am looking very pregnant these days. No matter what weight I start at and what I eat or how much exercise I get, I gain the same 50 pounds in the same increments.  I have excepted this.  I also have fat babies and a short torso so I look a little crazy once the third trimester comes. Along with looking pregnant,  I attract people who I can only describe as cuckoo for coco-puffs. I always have. However, they take on a new kind of crazy when you have a big hard belly.

A normal week of wandering around in public bring perfect strangers demanding to know:

When are you due?
No, give me the exact date!!!! Are you sure???
What time of day?
How will you give birth?
What will you wear?
What will you eat?
Who will be there!?!
How is your utetus? (What?)

An elderly lady literally started screaming at me… “ANSWER ME!!! I HAVE TO KNOW!!!!!!”
I had never met or seen her before in my life.

These questions are never hurled with a casual interest. They always include an intense stare with a slightly crazed look in the asker’s eyes. I am NOT allowed to not answer. Or walk away.or change the subject.

I am honestly weirded out by these people sometimes.  I didn’t encounter this nearly as much with my previous pregnancies. At least not in the crazy form. Why are people so adamant on having every single detail about a total stranger?
Nobody ever asks me my name.
They just scream at me about the state of my reproductive parts. I am reminded about why I am an introvert and don’t go out in public very much.
And then there are critics of that, as in my whole personality. The critics ask “why don’t you want to tell everyone else everything that has ever crossed your mind or happened to you!?!”




Um, no. Just no. If wanting to not be accosted by strangers on the street about the state of my private parts makes me a social freak, then a permanent residence in freak town it is for me. Is this the result of social media induce over sharing?

I would almost welcome physical belly rubs over people screaming ‘answer me!’.
I guess I should just be happy no one has called me fat this time around. Yet.

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