Unauthentic Baby Blues..

We have all seen commercials or movies where someone is unwittingly asked if they are pregnant when they are not. The initial responses from the audience are cries of disbelief or the covering of the mouth. "Oh no you didn't!" someone shouts. How can someone be so tactless, we ask ourselves? Certainly I would never do that, or no one I know has had that happen, we cry reassuringly. If the person is dressed in baggy clothes, or somewhat frumpy with a little extra junk in Le Old Trunk then we give allowances for the misunderstanding. However, what if you are dressed to the nines, wearing high heels, makeup, and a slimming black dress? Then what?

Saturday night Jarom and I decided we would attend the stake dinner/dance in honor of St. Valentines day. I dolled up. For once I shaved my legs, donned my favorite black dress from Banana Republic that screams "yes, I can look good once in a while!", I applied makeup in all the right places, and traded in my flip-flops for a pair of black sling back 4 inch heels. All at the same time.

And I was feelin' good.

That night Jarom and I learned a few waltz steps from an instructor and attempted to waltz around the cultural hall with stuffy affected looks on our faces until we broke down into giggles. After we got a little better, Jarom upped the pace and eventually I was being dragged around, literally, my feet sliding along the floor, my body limp from laughing, as a table of older couples laughed approvingly at us. It was perfect and all was right with the world. Until about 9:30 when we decided to drive to Walmart to buy a few things for sunday. All "good" things happen at Walmart it seems.

After 2 plus hours of dancing, standing and walking in my heels, naturally my feet hurt. I had followed Jarom around Walmart, gotten bored and decided to check out the food section to see what they had in their limited resources. It's really rather ironic that the most shocking moment of my life should happen there in the food aisle. And happen there it did.

"You look like your feet hurt." A woman said knowingly as she observed me holding onto a shelf for support.
"yeah." I answered, "I'm not used to wearing heels." I wondered what gave me away- the grimace of pain or the way my ankles bent every time I took a step. Ok, honestly not sexy, but the next line was unexpected.
"Oh, and you're pregn---" she stopped mid-sentence as she realized that I was not in fact pregnant, just fat in the stomach.

Her eyes shifted up to mine.

In that exact moment Walmart went completely silent, in the distance a cash register whirred. Passing customers dove behind carts of gatorade and rows of half priced Valentine's Candy, eyes peaking over in fear. Suddenly the loudspeaker blared the theme song from "The Good, the Bad and The Ugly." A faint breeze that smelled of gun powder ruffled my hair and my eyes squinted. I dared her to finish, to give me the chance to bunt kick the box of lucky charms I was holding at her head.
"Go ahead," I said menacingly, "Make my day..."

But instead it went like this:

"Oh, and you're preg-nevermind." She squirmed to a finish.
"Well what in the heck was preg-nevermind?" I wondered silently. I small village in Germany, a new word for fabulous, or flabulous?
"Have a good night." she said lamely and wandered away.

I, however, was left wondering what just happened. Did I really look pregnant? How come nobody told me that the spare tire I was sporting that evening was so passe? Next I suppose someone will tell me that love handles and cellulite are not exactly bragging rights at a party. I wanted to shout out at her, "I've had a hard year! I've been taking 18 credits a semester and not sleeping. Did you know stress and sleep deficiency lead to stomach fat??!"

Slowly I placed the lucky charms back on the shelf. And trudged over to Jarom in defeat.
"What's wrong?" He asked, instantly picking up on my bad vibe.
"We're having a baby." I mutter.
"What are you talking about?" He asks.
"Just ask that lady in the black." I answer bothered. "She can tell you everything."

I guess the baby blues can happen to non-mothers too.