If anyone has seen my Facebook today, you know I'm having a wonderful, idiot-free day. I hope you all caught the sarcasam. This morning, I was at Old Navy, minding my own buisness, trying to find me clothes in general and Ryan some jeans. I'd already picked myself out some things and was carrying them around the store with me. I had them folded across my arm and the band was in plain view - this is an important detail to the story. I was standing in front of the men's jeans trying to find some and this sales clerk walks up to me, takes my arm, and says "Aww! Are you pregnant?" Ok, really? I just stared at her in shock and disbelief. After a few seconds I smiled and told her that yes, I was indeed pregnant and looked back at the jeans, hoping against my better judgement, that the conversation was now over. As any pregnant woman knows, the conversation didn't end there. It never does. The sales clerk then asked me how far along I was and what my due date was. I told her and looked back at the jeans. She just stood there looking at me then asked me who my doctor was. And let's not forget the list of people she felt the need to give me who had birthdays/anniversarys on my due date. Lady, I DO NOT CARE. It's none of your buisness who my doctor is. And it's certainly not a pillow I have stuffed under my shirt.
Now, of course I don't mind discussing my pregnancy with people I know. I'm a pretty open book, but if I don't know you then there is absolutely no reason why your hand should be any where near my baby, you should be asking me about my medical chart, and who YOU know who thinks May 31st is significant.