People with well-intended sentiments about my changing body need to think five more seconds before they open their mouths. Because it's getting harder and harder for me to respond with something polite instead of summoning my inner Jackie Chan and surprising them with a roundhouse kick to the back of the skull.
No matter how excited I am to see a bump emerging from my abdomen -- proof that the little life inside is growing -- hearing the words, "Wow! You're starting to look pregnant!" is still not an acceptable thing to say to a pregnant woman.
Because we hear this: "Woa! How do you even stand upright, YOU HUGE GIGANTIC ORCA WHALE?!"
As women, we have been conditioned our entire lives to be very conscious of our bodies, and regardless of having an actual need to put on weight, seeing that scale creep ever higher isn't an easy thing to adjust to. And the bottom line is, we're animals. So just like birds and bees and orca whales, our pregnant bodies are sent signals to store up fat for breast feeding. Fat that comes in undesirable places. Fat that makes us want to kill you when you say things like, "Wow! You're starting to look pregnant!"
Then there are the not so well-intended sentiments. Like when you're a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding and the size 10 dress she ordered for you now won't even zip up more than an inch around your bloated midsection. Then you try desperately not to burst into tears when you remember that you wore a size 4 dress at your own wedding two years ago.
Then, when you call the bridal shop to exchange the dress with exactly four weeks to go until the wedding, you silently pray that they agree and advise you to go up one measly size to a 12.
Instead, when you get there, the very kind woman who had helped you on the phone takes one look at your orca whale body and asks, "What size dress do you have now?" When you respond and her eyes bulge out of her head, followed by a snort of disgust and a, "Yeah, that DEFINITELY won't fit YOU," somehow a kick to the back of the skull wouldn't be gratifying enough.
When she pulls a size 16 and 18 for you to try on, you want to take both dresses and forcibly shove them, one square-inch of satiny fabric at a time, down her smug little throat.
Then you become a broken and defeated shell of your former self in the dressing room when you realize you have to order the 18 to make room for more belly. The rest of the potato sack can be altered to fit. Or maybe, by then, it won't have to be.
So after you regain a little composure, you silently vow to come back to the store with your adorable baby in a few months and shove it in that skinny bitch's face and say, "See? SEE?! IT WAS WORTH IT!"
Either way, let this be a lesson to all of you: Never, never, NEVER tell a pregnant woman that she looks like it -- even if the baby is ready to burst out of her. Instead, if you must utter something, try, "Wow! You look amazing, mommy!" Trust me when I say that will go over much better.