Girls Gone Wild: Pregnancy Edition

So, a few weeks ago I was getting ready for work, pulled on my trusty brown pinstripe pants, only to find that the zipper would. not. budge. And did I say to myself, "its okay, I'll just wear another pair of pants" No! Why would I do something like that? I was determined to wear these pants that I had easily fit into two weeks before and now, not so much. So, I ripped open the package holding my brand new Bella Band, which I had purchased that weekend for this very purpose. Now, if you are not familiar with a Bella Band, it is a tube top like article that one wears over their 'pre-pregnancy' pants when they can't button them, but are still too small to fit into maternity clothes. So I pulled on this Bella Band, was satisfied with the layered look it created and was off to work.

Fast-forward 5 hours later, I had been sitting at my at my desk for approximately 4.5 hours and was ready to venture into the oppressive 97 degree heat, in order to get some lunch. Did I mention that I was feeling TERRIBLE? Terrible in the way that I was unsure if I would make it all the way across campus to McAlisters for my salad without vomiting on the unsuspecting co-eds playing beach volleyball. But the need for food was imperative. So I put on my game face (actually, I looked pathetic) and started slouching (literally) across campus. Along the way I probably passed 20+ people, who I avoided eye contact with or smiled weakly, as if to say, "Its a rough day, bear with me." Right as I was about to reach McAlisters, I passed a group of about 50 incoming freshman getting a campus tour. Amazed at their youth and vigor, I looked up at them as I passed. And then the very last boy in the group saw me and gave me a look that can only be described as repulsion and disgust. It was then that my self-consciousness got the better of me and I looked down and gave myself a once over. And thats when I discovered, that my trusty Bella Band, after hours of wear at my desk, was now resting happily around my waist, a good four inches above my pants, thus exposing my fully open fly and a shock of bright green underwear. Beautiful. Why this 18 year old boy was not excited by this, I do not know! If I were him on a campus tour of my future university, I'd think, "wow, the women here are not only mature in look, but quite saucy on a Monday afternoon!" By the look of his face, he did not think this.

Now, one might think I would react in sheer horror and humiliation, running in tears to the nearest bathroom. Nope. Instead I turned to him and yelled, "Fuck you! I am working on a doctoral degree and creating a new life! Whats the last thing you achieved, a mustache?!!!"

Of course, I did not really say this. But I wanted to. Here's hoping the coming days of this pregnancy brings greater moments of class and pride.