Gee, I thought I was doing well...

I'm doing some volunteer PR work for a local arts organization. At today's committee meeting, one of my fellow volunteers whom I hadn't seen in two weeks came in, looked at me and said, "Well, you're looking chunky!"

I stammered something about horizontal stripes not being the best idea for me (I was wearing a maternity T-shirt I'd found on clearance) and the meeting got started.

Side note: This is the same woman who, the first time I met her, shared with me how, when she was pregnant (in the 70s), she swam a MILE A DAY, six days a week, through her whole pregnancy, and the baby practically "slid right out." (Thanks for the visual, person I've just met.) She made a point to add that when she wasn't pregnant, she ran six miles a day, seven days a week. Whatever, lady. I swim two times a week, a half mile each time, and walk the other days, and I think that's a good effort.

It didn't really annoy me until the end of the meeting, when I was walking out to my car and getting hungry. I get really crabby when I'm hungry. I was reminded of some family pictures my mom had taken the last time we were all home, earlier this summer. The photographer just e-mailed us all with the proofs. Five months is probably not the best time in one's pregnancy to have a photo taken - I don't look pregnant in the pictures, I just look bloated. My face is puffy even when I'm at my thinnest, so adding on an extra 10-15 pounds didn't help. (The good news is, there's a really cute photo of my parents among the proofs that I am ordering.)

Frustrated with her stupid comment and the visual of those family pictures in my head, I went to the mall to take advantage of a sale at Banana Republic to get some "casual Friday" shirts for Brian (who shops for himself only in election years). I usually avoid conversation with retail salespeople, but I had a question about a shirt and the sales guy offered to take the stuff I'd found and put it behind the register. Then he asked if I was going to look for anything for myself. I held back the shirts to show him my belly (and, apparently, the rest of my chunky self) and said I thought I'd outgrown their stuff for the time being. He said, "Aw, how far along are you?" I said six months and he said, "Well, you hide it very well!" I'm not even sure if that's good or bad - like, am I so puffy all over that my belly is barely noticeable, or do I not look puffy until you notice my belly? I'm going with the latter. And that lady and her six-days-a-week exercise routine can suck it.