Not pregnant

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A certain etiquette exists with asking if someone is pregnant.
If there is any doubt, don’t ask. Basically, if someone wants to share their impending bundle of joy with you, they will.
New Year’s Eve I went to a party at a neighbor’s house. Tommy didn’t want to go because he doesn’t like to be thrown into a group of new people he has never met. I was thrilled to have the invite because our neighbor seems so delightful and sent us a Christmas card with the invite. My best friend next door agreed to go with me. I told Tommy I would just pop in for an hour at the party and if I had a fun time I would drag him over.
We had another party to attend afterwards.
So, my best friend was invited on a date and suddenly I was in the situation where I had to attend the neighbor party alone.
I was a little nervous because I didn’t know the folks, but put on makeup and what I thought was a cute/comfy outfit.
Judy, the hostess, was extremely gracious and introduced me to all the people at her party. I was alone, and going to a party alone can feel awkward. I didn’t know any of these people. They were all couples and I didnt have a sidekick. But everyone was very nice.
Somehow, when you gravitate toward the food, it feels like you’re not feeling as awkward. The food was yummy, of course, and I made a point of sampling everything and complimenting people on what foods they had brought.
Then I had a brief conversation with one couple. They were really nice and we talked about our mutual interest in sailing.
I guess it was because I was awkwardly scarfing food, and the woman asked when I was expecting my baby.
I laughed.
“No, I’m not pregnant.”
I felt sorry for her as I saw her expression.
“Oh, I just thought because you were eating a lot that you must have been eating for two,” she said, or something like that.
I know I’m not a supermodel, and carry around a few extra pounds. But I’m comfortable with myself and didn’t take it like an anvil falling on my head.
I felt more sorry for her for knowing she felt badly for making a faux pas.
You just don’t ask someone if they are pregnant unless the person is wearing a pink shirt with the word “baby” on it with a giant arrow pointing to their naval.
I was holding a glass of white wine in my hand, which would have been a good indication that I was not drinking for two.
I left soon after, and Tommy and I got a good chortle out of it all.
His nickname for me is Buddha because I tend to carry the extra pounds in my belly and he likes to pet it affectionately.
I guess it’s a sign that I’m happy that the pregnant question did not devastate me.
I remember a few years ago I was at a meeting in Glenn County and wearing a loose, comfy sweater and an attorney with whom I was chatting asked me when I was expecting. I told him I wasn’t and he blanched.
He sent me an e-mail the next day telling me how sorry he was for the comment and gave a long explanation about how his daughter was pregnant and the whole family was so excited about it that he must have just had baby on the brain, and was so joyful that he must have wanted to extend that joy to others.
Although, I must admit, I re-evaluated the outfit I was wearing that day and never wore it again.

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