Yes, I am pregnant. Yes, my belly is very big. Yes, there is a baby inside. Yes, it’s really neat, and yes, if you watch carefully you might see BabyVerm doing kung fu against my abs.
No, you can’t touch it. Not without my permission, anyway, and I’m getting to the point where I’m going to wrap barbed wire around my stomach and give a polite but firm “no” to any and all inquiries about laying hands on the baby-bulge, because half the time you don’t listen anyway and the other half of the time you act like I’m refusing to let you play with the Visible Woman. Look, people, it’s my belly and my baby, and if you don’t knock it off, it’s going to be my foot bouncing off your malformed, pinheaded excuse for a skull. I understand that you’re fascinated and intrigued by the miracle of life. I’m impressed by the whole business myself. But for the love of… Can’t you at least ask? And if you do ask, can you go one step further and treat the question as more than a pro forma request before you get gropy?
Let me lay it out for you. Right now the only people allowed to touch my belly without prior permission fall into the following categories:
My immediate family, i.e. my husband, who put the bun in the oven in the first place and is therefore allowed to check on its progress. Also my brother gets a pass, mostly because I owe him for all those times I sat on him and filled his mouth with lawn trimmings. If you let me pin you down and stuff a handful of Sharpies up your nose, I might reconsider my no-touch policy. Until then, piss off.
My ob/gyn, and by extension his office staff. I’ve never had my bits handled by so many people in my entire life. I’m not thrilled about it, but these procedures are meant to ensure my health and the health of my baby. You, however, are not a doctor, and I am damn sure not going to pull my shirt up so you can inspect my belly button.
The next inconsiderate asshole who touches my belly without asking is not going to pull back something as neat as a bloody stump. No indeed. The next inconsiderate asshole who touches my belly without asking is going to pull back a club of mangled flesh wrapped around pulverized finger bones, which will heal into a grotesque and useless parody of a hand, drawing the unwanted attention of children and small yappy dogs.
So here’s the deal: I won’t touch your pendulous pot bellies, your overstuffed breasts, or the hairy wen on the side of your nose; you don’t get all grabby with my belly. Should you touch my belly, I reserve the right to retaliate against any portion of your anatomy I can reach: crotch, buttocks, gut, etc. And you can count yourself lucky that I’m not ten feet taller, because I wouldn’t bother with anything below the navel; I’d just pinch off your head and flick it across the room. With any luck it would stick to the wall like a giant, bloody booger and serve as a warning to the rest of you.
Can this really be only your 5th post? :eek: I’m in awe of an excellent, tremendous, stupendous Pitting. I bow to your powers of rage and vitrol, nicely seasoned with colorful language and detailed imagery. I worship at the altar of your wrath.
Miss Manners suggested doubling over and crumpling to the ground in great and audible distress, as though the stranger’s blow had sent you into premature labour.
It would cause some ancillary inconveniences, but the person would be cured of the habit for life.
(Another method, somewhat more subtle but with the same near-nuclear effect, is a withering glare coupled with, “I’m not pregnant,”)
This is a thing of pure beauty. Welcome to the boards!
For fun (and Lord knows you need as much fun as you can get when you’re pregnant) next time someone does this fling both arms protectively around your belly and scream, “No, Damian, nooo! He/she didn’t mean it! It’s okay!” Then look fearfully at your accoster and whisper, “Run!” Or just icily inform them that you’re not Buddha.
Or do like I did and take a 6’8", 375 lb, scary looking hairy husband with you everywhere you go.
I can’t seem to understand people who do this. I’ve never walked up to a pregnant woman and started feeling around her stomach (Well, maybe when I was four and my mother was pregnant with my little brother, but I think I was excused at that point ). Anyway, I simply can’t understand the rudeness of people who do this. It’s a good thing I never intend to have kids, or you would definately be able to expect the hands of those un-permission-given touchers to be scattered everywhere.
Anyone who touches you without your permission is committing an assault and you can punch them out. That goes double for pregnant woman, who have to protect their fetus.
I love the idea of doubling over in pain and saying in a very weak voice “Whywould you do THAT to me and my baby?”
I’ve been pretty lucky so far with my pregnancy. No one really tries to touch my tummy. Of course at six months I was still getting people saying “I didn’t even notice that you’re pregnant.”
There’s just one person who annoys the shit out of me with it. I swear she has no brains. She has twins that are 15 months old and she told me how she hated when people came up and touched her stomach. YET SHE TOUCHES MINE!
I only let my mother touch my tummy once. Even then I was the one that put her hand there. What makes this girl think she has the right to pat and rub whenever she feels?
This is also the girl that insisted when I was about 20 weeks that she could feel the baby. I figured that was kinda hard considering that he didn’t move.
Remember that episode of ER where the old lady in the coffee shop asks Carole if she can touch her belly, and Carole says no. And then the little old lady is killed when a truck drives into the coffee shop?
See? Try and suggest that if you touch a pregnant woman’s belly, you get hit by a truck.
Excellent rant. You’re absolutely correct, of course.
Could be worse. When I was preggers with my twins this time last year & absolutely huge, I wanted people to touch my belly! I felt like Lillith, “I am the source of life, come and lay hands upon me”. But you know, they never did. I think they just figured I’d gotten even fatter! They’d shoot me furtive looks, like, “I’m afraid to ask if you’re pregnant, because at your age, you’re probably just obese.”
It’s such a universal complaint from pregnant women, do you think it might just be an instinctual thing? Years ago I was at a wonderful art show, really fantastic works had been put together, and the energy in the room was amazing. And people kept touching the art! People who should’ve known better! Maybe it’s a life force issue. Or something.
Ooh! I hated this too! That and the “when’s it due?” question when Baby was 5 months old and I stil hadn’t gotten around to the gym…
I think that people think it’s good luck or some damn thing–it is rude as hell.
I had a supervisor when I was pregnant feel my BACK–and ask, “where is your girdle?”
). Anyway, I simply can’t understand the rudeness of people who do this. It’s a good thing I never intend to have kids, or you would definately be able to expect the hands of those un-permission-given touchers to be scattered everywhere.