There’s a lady who comes into my office quite regularly for a box of food from our food pantry. I see her often enough that she and I are on a first name basis. She’s always very friendly and asked, during the past several months, how I was feeling, how the pregnancy was going, what I was having, etc. etc.
Well this morning, she was put on my Bad List.
P: “Hey, Mrs. Rita. You had your baby?”
me: (thinks, as I do every time I hear this question) “No, I’m the world’s smallest 11-month pregnant woman.” (says, with a smile) “Yes ma’am.”
P: “A little girl or a little boy?”
me: “A girl. Her name’s Iva.”
P: “Ohh. That’s so nice. Well, do you have some food assistance?”
me: “I’m not sure. I haven’t been over there yet this morning. Let me check.” (gets up from desk and walks past where she’s sitting to get to the door)
P: (says as I pass) “Ooooh. You did put on some weight.”