We Should Treat All Strangers Like They’re Pregnant

At a recent lunch at my Baby Daddy’s aunt’s house, I felt like I just won a Golden Globe award. As soon as I walked in, a number of his family members, who I hadn’t met, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me, beamed at me and shouted out, ”Congratulations!”

This is because I’m pregnant. Even more important than that, I’m showing! And when you start to show,  everyone in the world is so much nicer to you. I remember this from my first pregnancy, and so this time I couldn’t wait to show. Once it was clear that I had a baby bump, and hadn’t just spent months on a beer bender, I was like, ”I’M READY! BRING IT ON! BRING ON THE NICE!”

If everyone in the world treated each other as if they were pregnant, I’m telling you, the world would be a much kinder, gentler and better place. Even though I’m only four and a half months pregnant, I’ve never been treated so well in my life except for the first time I was pregnant.

First, everyone is happy for me. I love this because, really, all I did was have sex. I’ve written eight books that have sold across the world, thousands of articles, appeared on television numerous times, and no one has been this happy for those other accomplishments. I spent two years writing a book yet all it took was 10 minutes in the sack (maybe 12) to have people be nice to me and tell me how excited they are for me. My parents, for instance, rarely compliment my work, but they are super proud that I am pregnant again and brag about it to all their friends.

I can also ask for things that, in any other circumstance, people wouldn’t do for me. For example, this morning as I was sitting at my computer looking at celebrity gossip websites, I asked my boyfriend to make me a bagel with a bit of butter and peanut butter and to pour me a glass of orange juice and to make sure he shakes the orange juice first. Then I asked for a napkin, too, all while sitting there reading about the Kardashians. He obliged to all of my requests even though I’m perfectly capable of toasting my own bagel and getting my own orange juice. But he happily did it for me because I’m pregnant. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d probably get a look that said, ”What the fuck? I’m not your slave!”

Then his mother came over for dinner the other night, and after we had all finished and I started to get up to clean the dishes, his mother demanded that I sit down. Again, although I am perfectly capable of taking dishes off the table and putting them into the dishwasher, she demanded I just sit there because I’m pregnant. Of course I did what she said and just sat there like a lump, while rubbing my stomach and enjoying the attention. I’m more than happy to not clean up for the next few months, especially if people demand it because I’m with child.

Oh, and the compliments! I bask in them. Even though I think I look like shit (and probably do), too many people to count have told me how beautiful I look, how cute my belly is, how great my hair and skin are. In fact, I have gotten more compliments in the past couple of weeks than I have in eight years! I also am not one of those women who minds when people touch her stomach. I like it. It feels nice to have someone gently touch your stomach, even strangers. It’s the G-rated version of PDA.

At the airport, a kind employee let me skip the customs line because I am pregnant and showing. At the movies, in the bathroom, a woman let me bud because I’m showing. People are constantly holding doors open for me now that I’m showing. Strangers actually smile at me! I feel like I could get away with murder, because I am showing. And, in some ways, I am. [tagbox tag=”pregnancy”]

For example, my personal trainer, instead of yelling at me for eating a Big Mac, simply says, ”You’re pregnant.” If I need more time on an assignment, my bosses now say, ”It’s okay. You’re pregnant.” Friends call all the time just to see how I’m feeling and will even bring me care packages of food as if I’m dying and not just knocked up. And, yes, I do take advantage of all this kindness because, as I’ve said, no one is ever this nice. I purposely wear skintight clothes so people can see my baby bump, and I rub my stomach so people know I’m with child. I LOVE the NICE!

Could you imagine a world where strangers complimented and smiled at you all the time, held doors open for you all the time, congratulated you all the time, let you skip lines all the time, offer to clean up while demanding you rest all the time, make you dinner, call to check in on you, and just be plain happy for you? They are such little things and so easy to do. And to think I only have a few more months of this! You can bet your ass (and my fat one) that I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

(Photo: Barry Austin)

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