I'm so sorry! I didn't even notice you for a few minutes.Hold up just a tic. Why would someone be so apologetic for not noticing that someone whose head is clearly not in their normal line of sight didn't look too well? But what was in her line of sight was... my stomach. Did she think I was PREGNANT?
What. The fucking. Fuck.
But hey, maybe she was a nurse trained in dehydration. Maybe she was conducting a reverse of this sociological study. Maybe she just really likes fucking with people's heads. Who knows. I may look like death on a hot plate, but I certainly don't look pregnant*.
Cut to the afternoon. I walked into the nurse's office for a Band-Aid, almost colliding with the nurse standing inside the door. She looked at me and asked something that chilled me not just to my bone, but to my fatty, fatty heart:
Lactation room?I thought I was hearing things. Why would I need a lactation room? I didn't have the energy or quick-thinking to say no, so my face had to pick up the slack. My poor, confused face. She clarified, asking if I was there for the Lactating Mothers group. Lactating mothers. Lactating, as in, just gave birth and haven't had time to lose the baby weight yet.
I held up my mangled extremity in response. "No, um. My hand? Don't have a kid."
"Oh, I'm sorry! You look just like one of the mothers in our group."
"Just the face! I didn't mean anything."
NOT BLOODY LIKELY. What is the world trying to tell me? That I probably shouldn't have made brownies an hour ago with my roommate. Mmmm, brownies baby...
*No offense to any preggos out there. You have such a lovely glow! I would be honored to glow like that! Or so I've heard! Sorry about the whole "baby" thing, though.