I love being pregnant! So you'd think that I would blog about the joys of being pregnant, yes? No! Blame my Pommy heritage but I am going to whinge!
Being pregnant brings out the best and the worst in people. Let me tell you about the worst. I went to a friends birthday party last night. I wanted to leave after about an hour! I knew that I would struggle to eat any of the food and drinking (alcohol) would be out of the question, so I ate something before we went and took my own bottle of water. Lucky! I couldn't eat anything but the vegies for the dip and the host kindly gave me a plain bagel (which was nuked so much it took 15mins before I could even contemplate eating it)and when it came to the drinks, I couldn't have anything. There wasn't even a juice that I could have (he only had a bottle of pineapple juice which not only do I not like the stuff, I am apparently mildly allergic to it!). As I said, I was prepared for something like this. I didn't know anyone there but the host and his best friend, an old friend from high school who happily spent the evening chatting away to us which was great as everyone else was dancing. Yes, dancing. I love dancing but it is not possible for this whale (said with affection) to be prancing around on the dance floor. So we were the only three (four) people in the room sitting and looking like party poopers while everyone else was shaking their tail feathers. The music was so loud (the host's brother has a pro DJ system) that baby wasn't happy and kept wriggling around so I suggested that we sit outside to get some fresh air and actually hear our conversations. This was all well and good for about five minutes until the first smoker came out. He insisted on sitting at the same table as us even though he had no interest in actually talking to us. So I went back inside, alone, sat down and looked like a party pooper again bracing myself and baby against the loud music. Then I went back out when said smoker came back inside. I was a little annoyed that I had to move for a smoker and that he didn't go somewhere else to light up (there was a whole backyard and front yard he could have used). I got another 10 minutes of conversation in and then the next smoker came out. Again, guess who had to go inside whilst this guy sat at our table. Its more than obvious that I am pregnant and I began to make it very obvious that I was leaving for the smokers. Eventually I ventured outside again and had a longer conversation with hubby and old high school friend. Then two women came out to smoke at our table. There was only one table outside but chairs in other places so these people could sit anywhere. I'd had enough. I went in for the third time, sat like a loser while the others danced up a storm and ate more carrot sticks. I wanted to go home. So when these two chimney stacks had finished I went out and asked to go home. Luckily hubby had been puting together our new kitchen during the day and was very tired so he was very obliging. But the question remains, why do people have to smoke near a pregnant woman? Or near anyone else at all but a pregnant woman? As I said, it is more than obvious that I am pregnant but why should i have to move? If I didn't they weren't going to and I'm not going to take any chances. People are so selfish! Its not the first time that I have had to move for a smoker whilst I have been pregnant (one woman was smoking in a smoke free area and I still had to take a wide berth so I didn't walk right into her smoke). Its not just the smoking that seriously bugs me. People try to push past you in shopping centres, they don't offer you their seats (although a lovely guy did today at Dome cafe), and don't even get me started on people touching my belly without asking and announcing what sex they think that I am having (yes, I am talking about complete strangers).
There are the good people out there too. The receptionist who put me before another patient when I was seeing my accupuncturist, the man in Dome cafe, students who help carry things for me (the students are the best!), the music receptionist who carried my basket all the way to my car, my husband for everything that he does (he is the very best!), my big boss for personally delivering instruments out to schools for me at the beginning of the year and my mother for puting out my washing for me when she struggles to do her own.
I love being pregnant. I just don't love some of the selfish and rude people out there that you meet along the way.