Unfiltered Story #96653

One day, after work, I decided to reward myself for surpassing my weekly weight gain goal by splurging on a pizza and ice cream from a couple shops near my workplace. I eat my pizza in the pizza shop without incident, and walk through the parking lot to the ice cream shop, where the following occurs (Note, that I’m 7 1/2 months pregnant at the time. Also, I’m actually underweight for someone of my height and my doctor has threatened bed rest if I don’t gain weight):

Cashier: Hi! What can I get for you today!?
Me: Hi, I’d like two scoops of pumpkin ice cream in a waffle cone, please.
Cashier: Sure, coming right up!

The cashier gets my order, and I notice a somewhat angry man sitting in a booth behind me, with two kids:

Kid1: *whines* But Da-aaaddy, I want ice cream! She got some!
Kid2: *goes from whine to screechy in his request* Yeah, daddy, why can’t we have ice cream? Why do we have to eat this? I want ice cream now too, like her! *points at his small kid’s meal, and then looks at me and pouts*
Man: *angrily, and loudly* Because SOME FAT BITCHES ARE FUCKING CUNTS WHO CAN’T BE BOTHERED TO EAT LUNCH TO GET THEIR DESSERT, OKAY? NOW EAT YOUR DAMN LUNCH. Because if you only ate desserts, you’d be that fat too!

(At this point, I’m thinking “is he seriously talking about me? Like I’m fat? I’m literally skin, bones, and growing new human, so… what the hell.” I get my ice cream, and decide to speak up:)

Me: *whirls around to the man, with my ice cream in hand.* You, sir, are quite rude, and ignorant! I’m not fat, I’m pregnant! *I turned towards the children, and make sure I speak more calmly* I had a pizza at the place down the street. I should have eaten here, it looks like the food’s pretty good, but my son *pats belly* wanted more carbs with his pineapple and ham today. Now, how about y’all eat the few bites of lunch you have left, and THEN ask your father nicely for desserts. Also, just a little tip? *I lean down to the eldest child, my eyes dart towards the front, as I stage-whisper and point* the clerks are always happy to give as many samples as you want, of whatever flavor you want! And they really do have all the flavors on the menu, so if you don’t see it in the case, ask for it!
Kid2: *quickly eats his remaining lunch as I walk away* Daddy? I’m done, can I have ice cream?
Man: Sure, kiddo! *passing my table on the way to the register, looks at me* I… yeah, sorry,
Me: …
Kid1: *from table* Yo, Dad! I finished my food! Can I have ice cream?
Man: Totally! Yeah!

The kids walked up to the ice cream counter, and settled in for the long haul –
asking for as many samples as they could think of, and going through the entire menu of flavors at least twice, as the man becomes more and more impatient. It took them ten full minutes to find their favorite flavors, which they both got two scoops of, “because SHE DID!”

I laughed. I laughed out loud when I heard that, and he said “You know what? Fuck you, fat fuckin’ pig. Fuck. You.” and I laughed even more at his ignorance. On my way out a few minutes later, I got myself a half gallon of pumpkin ice cream to take back to my workplace. I ended up walking past his table, to the exit facing the street, as I left the store.

Kid2: WHOA! They DO sell those? Dad, but you said -!

I exited the store at that point, but I wish I had thought enough to “have problems opening the door” long enough to hear what he said the man said!