There May A Bit of Truth in Every Unintentional Insult, But Don’t Call Me Pregnant

I couldn’t see the speaker, but her words stopped me in my tracks.

“Hey, Jenny – I didn’t know you were pregnant!!! When did that happen?”

The voice came from the far side of the patio. The sun had already set as I was walking down the slope into my friend’s dark backyard to where everyone was gathered around the table, candles burning low and fire pit crackling. I squinted to see who it was as I set down my handbag on the chair brought in for me.

Conversation around the table ground to a halt. I didn’t recognize the voice, or the face, which made the words harder to bear. A total stranger asking you “when are you due?” when you’re not preggo? Well, that is rude, and it stings, but you can walk away saying “asshole” and brush it off.

Someone who you know – or at least, thinks they know you?

Damn, it hurt.

It hurt because of the thread of truth running through it.

Oh HECK NO I am not pregnant, nor will I be again, those days are well behind me thankyouverymuch. But. Yes, I have gained weight since I’ve moved back from the UK in late December. I’ve probably eaten too many Oreos late at night *brushes off keyboard*. I haven’t been to the gym as often as I should. (Ok, at all this year.) My favorite clothes from last summer are a bit too snug.

I hold in my stomach a lot.

My weight gain is a very touchy subject for  me. I’m more than a little conscious about it.

If she had called me a bitch, I could live with it, because I’ve been so stressed out the last month or so that I’ve got chronic bitch-face on, I fear. I could forgive her for misinterpreting a lack of a smiley face.

But the fat card? Ouch.

There was backpedaling “oh don’t listen to me, I’ve been drinking since 3pm/it’s dark out/I couldn’t see” but funny, it didn’t take away the sting of the basis of the statement.

Neither did the fact that she pursued the “joke” with a “hey, you can’t drink” when I was offered one.  My inner snark was speechless, too – Veronica (my snark is named Veronica) – couldn’t even come up with a good comeback on the fly, either.

I took a long pull on my margarita, sucked in my tummy, turned to the friends to my right and putting it (mostly) behind me, had a fun evening with great conversation. But I will admit, I am thin-skinned and the comment niggled. And while I could dwell on it and beat myself up some more, I’m going to turn it into the motivation that I needed to get back in the gym and put down the Oreos.

But, please. Please don’t ever call out a gal as pregnant unless you’ve received an announcement.

Please don’t call me pregnant.


And don’t call me “Jenny” unless you’re family.



  1. Oh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………………., you should never call anyone pregnant. Have you tried Oreo pie, made with crushed oreos and Cool Whip? It is actually low calorie, because of the Cool Whip. Love Gmom Phyl, and for Sam and Maddie I thank you very much. Also for tending your husband.

  2. Ooooooooooohhh, I like Veronica the Snark!!

  3. Hi this is the drunk. I want to start off by offering my sincere apology for what I said that evening. I admit to being very intoxicated and running my mouth off. It was extremely dark and I was without my glasses which I need all the time. The comment was not meant as a joke but was what I thought I saw which was indeed the bag you were holding. I do not use Facebook nor do I blog and am thankful a friend sent me a link to this entry. I hope you can forgive my comment and understand that it was my unfortunate mistake.

    • Hon, this wasn’t as much about your unfortunate comment (I wasn’t naming ANY names as to keep all parties anonymous) as it was about my self-perception and how the comment touched on an issue with which I’ve been struggling. The title sums it up nicely.

      Ok, maybe it does make a point (indirectly) that a person should never make that prounouncement unless they are certain of the recipient’s condition, but I’m happy to blame it on the booze.

      Apology accepted.

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