Saturday, September 28, 2013

The Time I Put a Hex on a Check-Out Girl

I would like to interrupt my previously promised series on infertility to bring you a quick rant. You will understand why once you read it.

Dear Harris Teeter Check-Out Girl,

I was actually enjoying my trip to the grocery store alone. In my world, that is called a vacation. Nevermind it was eight o'clock at night, I was on my second grocery store, and it was the end of a long day of dealing with a Honey Badger and her many, many idiosyncrasies. I was able to focus and shop and get in and out in 25 minutes. My little vacation. And you ruined it. 

You started off kind, when you told me you weren't filling the bags too full, so I could carry them easily. I even forgave you quickly for calling me "mama." But then you went and said what you said. Let me refresh your memory. "You sure you don't want any help? You are about to have that baby any day now." One would think after I laughed and said, "Nope, not until December," you would have the sense to shut. your. mouth. But you didn't. You grabbed your chest in horror and said, "OH. MY. GOD. NO. WAY. You sure? You look like you should be having that baby now." Well, I am not, though it would serve you right if I labored right here on your scanner, you twit.

So you should know that as I waddled out of the Teeter, I silently cursed you. I sent powerful juju your way so that when you get pregnant, your ankles swell. And your nose gets fat. I hope you get hemorrhoids, and then make the mistake of hitting 'images' when you google how to treat them. I hope your baby is happy and healthy and really huge. With a huge head. And that after he or she is born you pee your pants every time you sneeze or laugh or breathe heavy. I pray that you will be extremely fertile and that you easily get pregnant so that you can experience a cute girl 15 years your junior and quite a few pounds smaller than you tell you that you look like you should be crowning. Then, maybe you will remember this day. When you were so rude to a tired pregnant lady who just wanted to get to her car and open the cookies she just bought.

I am normally not a mean vindictive person. I feel a little bad for wishing such things on you, child who knew no better. But damn. Read some body language, sister. This is just another teachable moment for all. Don't ever infer that you know someone's due date unless you see her water break. And even if you think she may have miscalculated her due date, there is no need for you to comment on it. No one cares what you think. Especially the person carrying the baby. 

Your's truly,
Thea, The Pregnant Lady you insulted last night at checkout #8 who couldn't even enjoy that she saved $18.49 with her VIC card because she was feeling like such a blimp.









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