- Yesterday was a strange one. It started with a trip on the bus to the cinema, which is Peterborough means a trip on the bus to as close as possible and then a frogger style dash across a couple of very busy roads. If you manage to survive the journey you get to enjoy a film while your blood pressure returns to a normal (and then do it all again on the way home).
I digress. We got the bus and struck up a conversation with a man sitting opposite. He was pleasant and we talked about the weather in a very British fashion, how lovely the sunshine was, how it’s supposed to be a very cold winter and how the snow can wreak havoc with your shoes. It was all going so well until we got up to leave and he smiled, made that finger gun thing, pointed at my stomach and made that clicking noise whilst wishing me his heartfelt congratulations.
For reasons unknown to me, I had once again been mistaken for having been pregnant. This is not rare, uncommon, scarce, unique or out of the ordinary. Granted it hasn’t happened for a couple of months but it happens all the bloody time. So much so, I have stopped denying it. I hate that awkward look on the faces of those people that thought they were being nice only to inadvertantly tell me I have a strange body shape. So instead of saying “I’m not pregnant” and crushing his spirit, I simply said “Thank you”, got off the bus and went to play frogger with the traffic.
Perhaps it was the top I was wearing or maybe I was slouching with my back which is currently misbehaving? Whatever the cause, I mananged to smile about it and not let it get me down. I didn’t even burn the top
Today I’m still smiling, still not bothered and actually, quite glad it happened because last night I went out for the evening and got dressed up and had a bloody good night! I did something I rarely do and put a full length picture on Facebook and was overwhelmed by the kind words of my friends. So who cares if a few random strangers think I have a bun in the oven?
I’m me shaped and that’s a fine shape for me to be.