Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The Pregnant Model.

I feel like I am a magnet for weird things that happen. Like, seriously, some of the stuff I experience is so off the wall that people don't even believe me. It sometimes makes me wish I walked around with a video recorder just so I'd have proof, although I think by now my friends have come to realize this crazy fact of my life and just laugh at it all with me. The latest trend on the radar: the fact that I am a hot to trot, model-like pregnant woman (I hope you didn't just spit your drink out onto your computer when you read that line). Oh please, you know that I am. Haven't you seen my belly shot pictures? Or if you know me in real life, is it not evidenced in the fact that I shower every other day, rarely wear makeup, and pee in my pants at the slightest sniffle? Do what? That doesn't put me in the running for America's Next Top Pregnant Model? Well let me introduce you to three people who obviously disagree.

For our first model witness, I give you 18 wheeler guy #1. It was about 8:30 at night, and I had to make a mad dash to Walmart (kid free thankfully!) for some last minute items that I needed. Pretty sure that I was going to Walmart in Drew's most abhored outfit: The hog shorts and my size L, pink National Guard shorts. The hog shorts are seriously Drew's nemesis: they are Mens size mediums (even when I am pregnant I tend to be pretty small in the waist, so these things are barely hanging on... and have I mentioned I have no butt?) and the tshirt looks like one that a little kid would wear to bed. It had been a long day, and really, who cares what I look like when I'm at Walmart at 8:30. So I set on my way. As I near the second stoplight on my way there, an 18 wheeler pulls up next to me. There are plenty of 18 wheelers in these parts, so I didn't think anything of it, and as the light turned green I headed on my way. Not even a block down the road, the 18 wheeler comes up to the side of the Civic again, and honks his horn. Generally, when they do this, I flip them off (I know, I scream classy southern girl). It's dark, and as I have said previously, it was a long day, so I just kept driving, but a little faster so I could get out of Mr.'s way. He speeds up too. Honks again. At thinks point I was a little preturbed, but sped up. Also, keep in mind that my windows are not tinted, so he should clearly see the toddler car seat in the back, and the fact that I am 26 weeks pregnant and almost touching the steering wheel with my big bowl of a belly. Doesn't shake this driver off of me, and for the next mile and a half, the guy literally won't leave me alone. The speed limit on the road is 45-- and I got up to 60 and didn't shake him until I hit the next light. At one point, while I am thinking to myself that I might have to call Drew for backup because some psycho is chasing me around Arkansas, I thought that I should just get out of the car, waddle around to the front of the 18 wheeler and point very poingnantly to my belly and wave my wedding ring around. Maybe THEN he'd get the picture that not only am I taken, I'm about as spoiled a piece of meat as they come. As if that entire incident wasn't enough to boost my confidence that perhaps I am a bit hotter than the average pregnant woman, I give you scenario #2. 

On our way to Dallas, Drew and I stopped in a little town called McAlester, Oklahoma. Drew's all time favorite restaurant is Subway, so we stopped to eat there. We walked in, stood in line, ordered, and I went to sit down while they finished up his sandwich. I was about to tear into my meatball sub, when Drew came up to the table and insisted that we sit near the front of the store. I obliged, but thought it odd since Drew rarely shows preference to where we sit. As we sat down in a booth at the front, he motions with his head to the tables near the start of the line to an old man who was sitting by himself. When I say old, I mean about in at least his mid 60s, with the classic, back of the head is bald but the sides are budding  hair cut. OLD. Drew continues to inform me that said old man has been oogling at me since we walked into the store. So much so that Drew almost went over to say something to him. Can I just say, that I had no idea? And while I had makeup on this time, and a bit of a nicer outfit on, I was (a) with my husband, (b) CLEARLY pregnant, (c) wearing my wedding band. Any of those three would scare off the average man. But not this old man. Apparently I was the hottest thing to trot into McAlester and he was destined to let me know about it. The man seriously stared at me the entire time he ate his meal, stared at me as he got up to throw away his sandwich, and stared at me as he walked out of the door. Drew stared back, with that "this is my woman and I will shoot fire out of my eyes and knock you out in the blink of an eye if you even step  a foot closer to her" the entire time. I felt like I was in eye-war knock down or something. And honestly, this time creeped me out more than Mr. 18 wheeler, I'm going to chase you down the highway man. But it was just another notch on my list of nominations for America's Next Top Pregnant Model.

Scenario #3 is not near as entertaining, but it is a nomination nonetheless so I must share. Today as I left the OB office (and all went smashing by the way!) and was on my way to pick up B, I passed an 18 wheeler. As I hit a stoplight, he was behind me. He honked when we started going, and as I looked in the rear view mirror, he waved. And smiled. Gross. Again, clearly pregnant, kid seat in the back, and the man thinks that I am somehow going to pull over, jump ship from the Civic, and run away with him in his nasty oversized Chicken-hauling truck. Um. NO. But thank you for the nomination for America's Next Top Pregnant Model.

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