Can’t a girl gain a little bit of winter weight without being asked if she is growing another tiny human inside?
This was the second time in my life that I was asked if I was pregnant, when I was indeed not pregnant. The first time I was in my 20’s. I was working in PR, had probably worked extra hard on my Marc Jacobs outfit that morning, and giving a photographer tour when he asked:
“When are you expecting?”
“Expecting what?” I replied.
Most people would realize their mortifying mistake and stop the conversation then and there.
Not this guy.
He replied, “Your baby!”
My jaw dropped to the floor and I burst out “Holy crap, I’m not pregnant!” Then I excused myself to burn my dress and find the nearest gym.
When asked the same question 10 years and 4 kids later, I wasn’t devastated, just a little annoyed. Ummm, no. I’m not pregnant again. It’s winter, and excuse me but I’ve just been eating my weight in Girl Scout cookies.
I mean, a Girl Scout had just visited my house with a wagon overflowing with Thin Mints, Caramel deLites, Shortbreads, Peanut Butter patties, Peanut Butter Sandwiches and every other Girl Scout cookie made of magical goodness they peddle all sitting there ready to be consumed. What was I supposed to do? The only reasonable thing that came to mind was to give her all of my money in my wallet in exchange for an armload of every kind she was selling. It’s winter and I just need some good old-fashioned comfort food to get me through it.
Can’t a girl indulge herself with the deliciousness of Girl Scout cookies without being mistaken for a baby factory?
Throw me a bone here….and if the bone happens to be made of shortbread and chocolate, well that works too.