Dear World,

Shutthefuckup.

I am pregnant, not terminally ill. Please stop looking at me with pity.

Yes, it is hot. Of course it's hot. It's summertime in Texas. It's hot for everyone. Quit asking me, "How are you surviving in this HEAT????" as if I am performing a miracle. I am surviving the same way everyone else is: air conditioning. I work inside, in a nicely climate-controlled 72 degrees. Heck, most days I even wear a little sweater. I'm not a day laborer. Those are the people you should pity. I don't need you to tell me how miserable I should be because I'm NOT MISERABLE.

Last night we met some friends for dinner. There was a wait, and one open seat on the bench. A 90-year-old woman, literally hunched over with the weight of her 90 years, looked at the open seat, looked at me, and said, "I don't know which of us is worse off." Um, with all due respect, grandma, I'm going to go with YOU. Did I really just get compared to a 90-YEAR-OLD??

And while we're at it, let's talk about the comments. Yes, I'm big. I'm pregnant. I'm growing a big baby. It's my job to give her some room to grow, and she's still has another 5 or so lbs of adorable fatty smooshiness to add to her frame. So, Captain Obvious, there's really no need to say things like, "Wow, you're big!" And while we're at it, "Look at you! You're.............getting ready!" is a notably valiant attempt at sidestepping the "You're getting big" comment, but really you stepped right into the middle of the sentiment itself. And the face you give me when you ask when my last day of work is, and I tell you I still have three more months to go....yeah...not a good poker face.

So, to be perfectly clear: I'm surviving fine. There's nothing wrong. Yes, my ankles swell on some days, and sleep is getting a little uncomfortable, and my husband has to rub my back a little more than usual, but to be perfectly honest I had a harder time training for triathlons than I've had being pregnant, so if everyone could just stop with the negativity, with the pity, with the oh-you-poor-pregnant-thing, that would be great. Because quite frankly, it's making it a little bit harder to maintain my PollyfuckingAnna attitude.

kthanxbye,
the quite-happy-thank-you-very-much pregnant lady