Baby Baby, how was I supposed to know?

I don’t have any idea how to start this blog. I want it to be clever and “hook” you into reading the rest. Storytelling isn’t my strongest skill—but this story needs to be told. I guarantee that all the events of the below story are true and factual. Bare with me as we get this story started…

It’s ingrained in us early that we shouldn’t tell lies. It’s unethical, we’re told. We should be honest in every thought, word, and deed, sings the Primary song. But I confess, (and digress), that last night I told a lie. A BIG one.

There I am, checking out at the Target service counter. I was purchasing a few essentials, a birthday gift, and a shirt of the most gorgeous blue color.

It’s at this point in the story that I should just fess up and explain that the shirt was a maternity shirt. I like maternity shirts—they’re built in love-handle disguises. (I also like maternity skirts and bathing suit tops, but that’s a story for another blog.) For the record, I never actively seek OUT maternity clothing, but it finds me on the sale racks and by the time I notice it’s a maternity cut, I’m already sold on the style, cut, or color. (Again, I won’t lie. I’m loving the “tight on the top, loose around the gut” look these shirts produce. Quit imagining me in shapeless t-shirt, I know you’re doing it. Maternity clothes are quite stylish.)

But again, I digress.

There I am, checking out at the Target service counter. I was purchasing a few essentials, a birthday gift, and a shirt of the most gorgeous blue color.

Cashier: “You’re so lucky you can find maternity clothes in your size.”
Me: “Yeah, I know!”
Me (thinking): Anyone can find maternity clothes in their size! THAT’S the beauty of it!

Cashier: “Do you know what you’re having?”
Me (thinking): OHMYGOSH. She thinks I’m actually pregnant. OHMYGOSH. Why am I standing like this? I know I’ve stopped running, but do I actually look PREGNANT? How embarrassing! Wow, this is crazy. OH. MY. GOSH. Really, again, WHY am I standing like this? PREGNANT? REALLY?

Me: “Yes. I’m having a girl.”

Me: “What are you having?”

Cashier: “I’m having a boy and a girl.”
Me: “Oh TWINS! That’s so great!”
Cashier: “Yep, one of each.”

Cashier: “How far along are you?”
Me (thinking): OHMYGOSH. How far along do I look?! I know “I know” the sex of “my baby,” so I have to be at least 20 weeks. I also have some (even if only a miniscule) pride left and I’m obviously not 40 weeks along… HOLY CRAP. I look PREGNANT!?

Me: “Twenty weeks.”

Me: “How far are you?”
Cashier: “Twenty weeks too. Just today.”

Me: “Oh, that’s great.”
Me (thinking): IF SHE ASKS ME WHEN I’M DUE, I AM FREAKING SCREWED. I don’t know how far along I should be! I don’t HAVE a due date! OHMYGOSH. I look PREGNANT? AGAIN, WHY am I standing like this? And better yet, WHEN is “my baby” due?

Me: “So… when are you due?”
Me (thinking): Ha. I’m a genius. … a fake-pregnant genius. … I’m an idiot.

Cashier: “October 18th. But they’ll probably be coming early September.”
Me: “Well good luck with everything!”
Cashier: “You too!”

Hungry, and needing to eat for two, I contemplated my recent pregnancy over a Target hot dog. I sat, rather dejectedly (surrounded by the usual Target café crew—really, there are regulars, and sadly I’m one of them) trying to make reason of my recent turn of events. I lied to that pregnant cashier to save her feelings. I mean, why WOULD a non-pregnant woman be buying maternity clothes? It wasn’t her fault I like it easy and breezy around my stomachal region. If I’m being honest (and why would I stop now? I just admitted to looking, acting, and lying about being pregnant in an open forum), I think I also lied to save face.

And with THAT off my chest, I hereby expel this false fetus from my womb, and will be getting back to the gym.