I do believe we’ve finally found a behavior that can be pitted, and that not one person will seriously defend.
Though I would dearly love to hear someone try…
I hate this kind of behavior! It’s one of the things I’m really not looking forward to when I have kids.
Everyone seems to be in agreement with the OP here, but obviously there are people out there who think it’s ok to go up to a pregnant woman and touch her belly. I’d really love to hear someone come in and try to defend this behavior, just to find out why someone would do that! I can understand the desire to do it, but a rational person should be able to realize that it’s not an acceptable thing to do, esp. to a stranger.
I’m not sure how that happened…
bbrp’s double post
Cranky Pregnant Hamsters.
Specifically, cranky pregnant hamsters (band name!) that are pissed off because you’ve been rubbing their bellies without permission.
I figured that went without saying. 
(I was expecting a “band name” comment, thanks for not letting me down. 
)
It is certainly a near irrestistable urge. But good grief, a reasonable and mature (and more importantly POLITE) stranger will resist as a matter of being a NORMAL member of society.
I can’t even imagine touching a stranger for no reason (unless it’s a touch on the arm to empahize a point or some such during a conversation). Even with friends and acquaintances, I would most DEFINITELY ask first.
Well, there’s the whole, life-affirming, fertility-might-be-catching, they don’t mean any harm by it, Circle of Life concept.
Yeah, I got nothing.
Luckily, no one tried to touch my belly, maybe because I didn’t look pregnant until I was actually on my way to the hospital, practicing my breathing exercises.
Is it bad to hope that someone does touch Verminary’s belly now, so we can hear of the aftermath? 
A very nasty male I use to work with claimed he was “psychic” and would tell the date of birth and sex of the baby by touching pregnant woman’s bellys. After his first few predictions were wrong, I realized he simply got off on it :eek: and started warning them about his actions.
I think “psychotic” describes this behavior better.
How about replying with, “Actually, I’m an alien and I’m looking for a host for junior to feed on. Hey, would you be available?”
I suggest you learn a new phrase: “Sorry! Hormones.”
You’ll be amazed at how much physical violence this lets you get away with.
To be fair, it’s not as if I’m being randomly accosted by strangers who rush up and grope me without any further interaction. (Well, except for once, but I’ll go into that later.) It usually goes down like this:
Verminary is in the grocery store/book store/doctor’s waiting room/in line at the movie theater.
TouchyFeelyPerson (No resemblance to any Doper with that name, if any such exists) spots The Belly and makes a beeline for it.
TouchyFeelyPerson: “Do you know what it is yet? How far along are you? When are you due?”
Verminary: “Boy, twenty-eight weeks, end of March.” (Dates and gender may have been obscured to protect the innocent.)
TouchyFeelyPerson [computing]: “Oh my GOD you’re only at twenty-eight weeks? You’re HUGE! LOOK AT YOU! YOU’RE HUGE!”
TouchyFeelyPerson reaches out in extreme slo-mo with fingers splayed in classic “rubbing the watermelon” gesture.
Verminary: [thinking] My kingdom for a taser.
TouchyFeelyPerson rubs and prods in fascinated bliss.
Verminary: “You die now.”
This has happened five or six times since I ballooned into the Oh my GOD YOU’RE HUGE phase; that’s about once a week since early December. And I am pretty big. I’m guessing it’s because I’m quite short (4’11"), and since the baby’s a little on the big side, the furniture only has so far to go before it spills out onto the patio.
Two incidents were an exception: the Creepy One and the Hit and Run. The Creepy One was at Mr. Verm’s Christmas party. One of his co-workers came up and literally started kneading my belly like dough while his wife went into Pregnancy Story #34, “I Pooped on the Delivery Table.” Turned out she’d had a C-section three weeks ago, so they were vicariously re-living her pregnancy through me. Also they’d both been to the bar more than once, so their idea of personal space was somewhat diminished.
The Hit and Run got me on Saturday night, when I was buying ice cream to celebrate surviving the Aviator. My Atkins girlfriend was philosophizing about carbs and calories, to which I replied something like, “Yeah, but the baby needs fat and carbs and all that crap.” Suddenly the elderly lady in front of us finished her transaction, whirled around, grinned at me, executed a lightning-fast rub-and-pat maneuver on The Belly, and scurried out of the store. 
I suppose the reason people do this is because pregnancy is an obvious physical indicator of what society thinks of as “the blessed event.” So far they’ve almost all been women. Maybe it’s more acceptable for a woman to touch another woman on the belly? Maybe it’s a weird sort of “female solidarity”? I certainly can’t imagine anyone feeling me up if I’d grown a big pendulous tumor from my ear. Still, it’s mind-boggling. These are total strangers. I don’t know their names, we don’t exchange phone numbers, and I never see them again afterwards.
I’ve never been pregnant, but if I were and this happened to me, I think this would be the point where I would give a blank stare along with an “I’m sorry, do I know you?” followed by something along the lines of “Nunnayerbeeswax” (politeness level determined by the situation, my mood, etc.). Any attempt at touching would be met with a swatting away of the offending hand and some version (again, polite or not) of “Hey nosy, keep your hands to yourself!”
Honest question: Have any of you current or former preggos tried this, or do you really just let people paw you without repercussions? I mean, somebody needs to tell these boneheads, quite clearly, “Hey! What makes you think you can put your hands all over somebody just because she’s pregnant??” No snarky jokes, no goofy sayings on T-shirts – why not just let 'em have it, straight out?
The scene: the local hippy-dippy bulk herbs, incense, and yoga-supply shop. I’m there getting whole nutmegs to grate into my morning oatmeal.
The woman next to me at the spice counter is too pregnant to be believed. Just massive.
We are quietly going about our spice-weighing business. Suddenly, a flurry of brightly-colored silk flutters over from the cash registers. Beads and dreadlocks flying, the sales clerk has noticed something amazing is happening over in spices.
“Ohmygod!” she moos happily, “You are all baby, honey! Can I touch you?” And without waiting for a response, she slides her hands under the woman’s shirt and starts feeling around like she lost her keys, all the while swooning over *the miracle *.
My own personal demons flared up and I turned to them both, hiking up my shirt a bit. “I’m sterile. Anybody want to feel my belly?”
I did not leave with my nutmeg that day.
Verminary, depending on how much you obscured the date and gender, we’re due at the same time. I’m having a boy. It seems like almost everyone is this year.
I went to the commissary yesterday and the ~16 year old bagger took one look at me and said it had to be a boy because I was carrying so low. Kinda makes you feel a little dirty with everyone checking you out and then telling you about it. At least men stopped staring at my breasts for now. I don’t want to know what happens when my milk comes and the belly (somewhat) disappears.
Another idea for a Tshirt, “I’m not Buddha, Don’t rub me for luck.”
What would possess some one to lift up another person’s shirt and touch a bare belly? That’s such an intimate act. If you’re doing that to me you better be my husband or have begged for permission (which won’t be granted unless we’ve known each other for near a decade and your hands are really cold).
No! Not the small yappy dogs! NOOOOOOOOOO!
Alternate response: With a frigid stare, say, “It’s not a baby, it’s a highly contagious hyperinflationary pancreatic tumor.”
Verminary, what are you, and are there many more like you? Can you bring them here. Awesome rant for a new doper. I like your style.
I am pregnant too, and starting to suffer from “public property” syndrome. I am slowly becoming a recluse, my tummy is too small for the touchy people, but as soon as it is and people start touching me I will barricade myself in my house.
My doper friend suggests that you look at people like you are just been offended and ask “are you implying that I am fat?!”. I’ll try that.
Related article from Today’s Parent:
http://www.todaysparent.com/pregnancybirth/pregnancy/article.jsp?content=651352&page=1
pokes Verminary’s belly with a spongy foam stick
Just do what I did when I was pregnant with my daughter, reach out and lay your hand right on their abdomen while they’re touching yours. Watch them recoil in horror with a very confused look…then watch the realization dawn on them as they back sheepishly away.
Worked every time.
Best if accompanied with a pretty smile and a very sweet “and how are you doing?”