Workin' it...

I went back to work the last two days, and I'm not being overly dramatic when I say that it's even more miserable than I remembered it. A woman comically pregnant like I am has no business being in a fast-paced environment, especially one which requires a lot of bending, leaning, walking, carrying, and my personal favorite- squeezing through narrow aisleways. That's just the physical requirements of the job. Even more annoying than the fact that I physically cannot do many of my occupational requirements without straining, huffing and puffing, or bumping into people is the fact that EVERYONE wants to talk about my pregnancy. ALL DAY. STRANGERS. Now, I've got plenty of regulars with whom I'm on a first-name basis, who ask about my life and times in a non-obtrusive way because we've built a professional rapport. That's fine. What I'm starting to get really annoyed with is how I can't make it from Point A to Point B without being stopped and baited into a conversation. It usually goes something like this:

1. Customer notices I'm pregnant.
2. Customer remarks on my pregnancy, usually by saying something that they intend to be humorous but fails miserably.
3. Customer asks when I'm due.
4. Customer then gives opinion on due date, falling into one of three catergories:
A. "Almost here!" (Actually, no. It's about 64 days away, and it seems like for-effing-ever. But thanks.)
B. "But it's going to be so hot in the summer!" (Whaaaaaat? Hot? But, but, but, I don't get it, I live in Palm Desert. It gets hot here? 120 degrees, that's hot? Hmm. Thanks.)
C. "My birthday/husband's birthday/child's birthday/hairdresser's/dog walker's/pedicurist's birthday is in July, shoot for the [insert any day in July here]!" (I usually tell them that I'm only accepting requests for dates before my due date... and that's only if they're excellent tippers. Ok, I don't really say that... although I might hint towards it.)
5. "What are you having???"
Usually, if I want to end the conversation at this point, I say "A BABY." and keep walking. Assuming that didn't happen, things progress as such...
6. Customer inquires about the name of the incubating fetus.
7. Customer inquires about any other children I have, and if I want to have more after this.
8. Customer asks if my husband is excited. (I'll level with you here, I NEVER would correct people before I was married. One of the first things I said to Chris about being married was "Now when I talk about my husband, I'm not lying!")
9. Customer asks my SSN, blood type, favorite color, Chris's favorite pizza topping, and then asks me to guess a number between 1 and 100. Ok, maybe not, this is usually the part where they deliver a monologue about their experience with pregnancy and babies in general. Usually I start to get fidgety and try to weasel my way out of the conversation, because OH I'M NOT ACTUALLY TRYING TO DO MY JOB ON TOP OF HAVING THE SAME CONVERSATION EVERY TEN STEPS. If I'm not preoccupied, though, I try to smile a lot through lovely step number nine, because I will usually reap the benefits in one second...
10. I tell the chatty customer that unfortunately, I have to get back to work. This is when they release me from their conversational clutches, but most of the time not without telling me something nice, usually that I'm all belly! Seriously, as much as I bitch about it, getting a sincere compliment about looking good (especially after all of my preggo trauma) is worth having to answer the same questions over and over again. If it buys me five minutes worth of thinking that maybe not everyone sees the fat sea hag that I feel like most days, well, then I'll do it. I'm aware of how superficial that sounds and you know what? I DON'T CARE.