"Fat" to one is not "fat" to others.

Last week, I talked about my besties (yeeeah, not sure I can pull off that kind of lingo), who both happen to be shorties. A couple days after I posted that, I was talking with Deanna about how relative weight is. We spent a few minutes pulling up the healthy BMI ranges for different heights. I told her that,\ for my height (6'0"), her current weight (on her 5'1" frame) is considered underweight for me. Well, let me tell you, she needed a crane to pick her jaw up off the floor. She couldn't believe that a healthy range could possibly be as high as mine.

For the record, "healthy" for Deanna's height is between 98 (um, reeeally?) and 132 pounds
"Healthy" for me is between 137 and 184 pounds.

Gives you a little perspective, doesn't it? Now, people are self-centered--don't roll your eyes, we can't help it--so we base our perceptions on what's normal for us. We don't consider the people standing around us. For example, I've been told straight to my face by an educated, very nice person that they think 150 pounds is fat. She kept on about it and perhaps I imagined it, but she really enunciated "150" and "fat" like she were spitting at me. This stumped me. How much did she think I weighed?

Random Googling brought me to this site: http://caloriecount.about.com/tall-women-weight-loss-ft93816
 and made me feel soo much better. It's nice to have more accurate comparisons.

Moral of the story? #1- "Fat" to you might be somebody else's "Yeah, never gonna happen because I'd look sickly" weight. #2- Don't compare goal weights with your friends. Particularly if there's an 11-INCH difference in height.

Oh yeah, and don't say that 150 lbs is fat, mmkay? It hurts my feelings.

::smacks forehead::

In the past 2 days, besides being told several times by the same person: "You know, you could be pregnant for several more weeks," there have also been topics people felt compelled to bring up with me. These topics have included how the state has the highest incidence of child kidnappings and summaries of news stories about child molestation and killings. It was also brought to my attention that I need to watch my kids at the indoor mall playgrounds because someone in nice clothes might walk away with them, throw them in a van and then sell them in Mexico. Also, (and this is very close to their phrasing) if I don't install the car seat in the middle of the backseat (which we did), if I get hit, my baby will die.

Holy crap, people.

Oh and yesterday we had this couple (each on their own scooter wheelchair, the wife missing several teeth, and the husband with a Bible on his lap) going around to the lobbies preaching. I unknowingly walked the hallway to grab the mail. They spotted me and immediately started blessing me and my "unborn child." They did this repeatedly. Fortunately Jackie and Mary pulled me into their area and half-joked that the couple wanted to steal my baby. I immediately got flashes to the Midnight, Mississippi couple wanting to "bring the word of God to the Wal-mart baby."

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. What is wrong with people?

Where's the duct tape?

Why is it that some people make it their job to share every scary labor and delivery story with pregnant women? It's like a challenge to find the story that will freak them out the most.

Yes, Idiot Coworker (AKA: Little Mary Sunshine) graced us with her presence again.

As soon as I realized it was her walking in our office, I grabbed the phone. Who did I call? Moviefone. Because it popped in my mind first and there was no reason to call an actual person to escape her assessment.

The first thing out of her mouth?

"When are you due again?"

I've told her no fewer than 3 dozen times. Do I expect the world to revolve around me and for everyone to remember my due date? Of course not, but I've lost my patience for this woman. Particularly when the question begins every conversation and is immediately followed by a criticism of my belly size.

Thankfully she saw I was on the phone, but still proceeded to tell good coworker about a friend of a friend of a friend who just had her baby. I heard bits and pieces while I struggled to tune her out and listen instead to the Moviefone ads. Something about a drop in blood pressure and an emergency c-section. Basically a story I didn't need to hear about, but she was almost giddy to tell.

When she left, good coworker just rolled her eyes and asked the same question I wonder about everytime this happens. Why try to terrify a pregnant woman close to delivery with stories of labors gone wrong? Why indeed. It's like telling a 5-year-old all about the Boogie Man right before bedtime and then cheerfully kissing them goodnight.

Fortunately, I'm calm and logical enough to know that every labor is different and so I don't freak out over scary labor and delivery stories. It's not like worrying is going to prevent anything anyways. I just shamelessly avoid interaction with this woman to keep myself from giving her a verbal lashing. She's not worth it and it honestly wouldn't do any good anyway.

Instead, she gets the side-eye once again and I shall continue with my day.

Until the next installment of "Grown ups say the darndest things"...

I couldn't make this stuff up.

I must share all of my strange people encounters because, let's face it, being around pregnant women brings out some interesting behavior in people.

To give you a little background info--I'm not terribly comfortable with this guy to begin with. He's one of those guys who marches to a beat of his own drummer, which is fine. To each their own, buuuuut...

Today he placed both hands on my belly, closed his eyes and began to hum. Very meditative-like.

All I wanted to do was refill my cup at the water cooler.

Grown ups say...and do the darndest things

Yesterday I stopped off in the ladies room before leaving work. Having a 4+ lb baby using your bladder as a pillow tends to increase the bathroom breaks so it seemed like a priority. Plus the Hubs was going to be a few minutes late because he was picking up Annie's meds from the vet anyways so I wasn't in a rush. Even when there was a line for 2 stalls. I waited my turn, did my thing, and was heading out to the sink past the other women waiting in line.

That's when it happened.

Suddenly this woman, who before this moment was completely unknown to me, comes toward me, thus blocking my path, squeals, drops down so her face is near my belly and proceeds to "coochy-coochy-coo" my unborn child.

Idiot coworker strikes again.

Remember this gem?

She's baaaaack. Though not to bless me with criticisms of my lack or abundance of a baby bump that would make Clinton and Stacy from "What Not to Wear" seem as docile as a couple of Golden Retriever puppies. No, today it was my good coworker who took the brunt of it.

First, she came into the office and asked good coworker if she wanted to join her diet club/team (oh, the irony), but was turned down since she doesn't carry cash, which apparently this "club" of sorts requires. While the idiot was in the office, I was sure to stay on the phone the whole time as to avoid an insult slinging because frankly, I've had enough of this person.

She left. Later, good coworker was walking down the hall. Idiot is coming toward her and says (I imagine in her normal non-inside voice):

"It's a good thing you're tall so you don't look fat."

Yeah.

You know, if she keeps this up, I'm going to have to assign her a better character name to use in the blog.

To even it out...

I was amused by the Fresh & Easy guy last night. I was doing the self-checkout and had quite a few things so he came over to bag up the groceries. He turned to me and said: "I see you're growing a little mini-you. What are you having?"

See? Some people are harmless...and kind of funny.

Stupid is as stupid does.

I tweeted awhile back about a coworker not realizing that I'm pregnant. I saw her a lot in the halls and was very clearly pregnant. The next time I saw her, she said "Oh yeah, you look pregnant now." That was like 2 days later.

That's enough to earn her an eyebrow raise.

Oh, but today...today, idiot coworker comes into the office to drop off a FedEx package. She peeks around the corner, doesn't say "hi" or any other common pleasantry. No, idiot coworker looks at me almost in disgust and says...

"You're BIG."
Me: ::thinking "ookay..."::
IC: "No, you're BIG. When are you due?"
Me: "March 3rd."
IC: "You have that far to go? Are you sure?"
Me: "Yeah. It's only about 2 months."
IC: "And you're this BIG already?"
Me: ::glare::
IC: "You're sure you're not having twins? You're really BIG."

She then proceeded to tell me how she knows someone whose wife thought she was only having 1 baby. She had 3.

I asked her when this was.

1980.

Thank you. Now go away. If I weren't propping up my poor Shrek feet under my desk, I'd give you a nice kick in the arse to help you out the door.