The Aged Of Innocence

(I am nine months pregnant with my third son, and am sitting down at a Chinese restaurant. I have soup and a plate of stir-fried vegetables. Across the aisle from me is an elderly couple.)

Older Man: “Look at that girl. What a cow. Look at her, honey. Just stuffin’ her face full.”

(The older woman glances over, then looks down at her own plate.)

Older Man: “See what I mean? Someone should just take the plate away and make her walk everywhere. No one wants a woman that big. Poor thing will be single for her life at this rate.”

(The older woman sits silently and eats. By this point, I can feel tears starting, and now I don’t want to eat. But just as I think about waddling away, and thanks to what I hope are hormonal mood swings, I get angry. So I stand up and waddle over to his table.)

Me: “Yeah, real nice. See this?” *I rub my pregnant belly* “It isn’t made of food. It’s a baby. My third, actually, and I’ve been happily married for a few years as well. Anything else horrible you’d like to say about a pregnant woman you don’t know? Maybe remark on my horrible complexion, or that I can’t tie my own shoes?”

(The old man shakes his head and looks deflated. The older woman is suddenly angry.)

Older Woman: “See, this is why I hate eating with you! Why do you got to be that old grumpy a** who keeps doing this? Apologize to her now! Poor thing!”

Older Man: “I’m sorry. It was rude of me.”

Me: “It definitely was. I’ll be leaving now.”

Older Woman: “You’re such an a**! You are so lucky I said ‘yes’ 33 years ago, or someone would have killed you by now!”