Saturday, July 14, 2012

How to Compliment a Woman

So, I'm just about back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Hip, hip, hooray!

Except, of course, I still need to lose the 12 pounds I gained before getting pregnant. When I was commuting to Westchester every day. And inhaling Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures at a rate of two miniatures per minute.

Yes, that's right, I got pregnant when I was the fattest I'd ever been. And now that I'm back at that weight, I am the fattest I've ever been without being pregnant PLUS I have flabby abs.  Hip, hip, hooray!

I know, I know. It's all a work in progress.

Anyway, I ran into our building's super in the elevator today. I'd like to preface this story by saying that he is a really sweet and helpful man who does not speak English as his first language. I don't get the impression that he is scrutinizing the laundry videos looking for a glimpse of leg like one of the doormen in my last building (read this).

I say, Hi, how are you?

He replies, I'm fine, how are you?  Then he glances at my mid-section and says, You are looking so much... [searching for word in English] better.

Oh yeah, thanks, I laugh. I'm losing the baby weight.

Aaaaah riiiiiight, he says, recalling the little cherub I carry around with me all the time. So apparently he wasn't making a comment about losing baby weight, just weight. The baby, he says. That's why you were so fat.

Okay, he didn't really say that last part. But the words were kind of hanging unspoken in the air. I couldn't wait to get off the elevator. Buh-bye.

This incident reminded me of the security guard at Bath & Body Works last November, about a month before I gave birth. As I was dragging my swollen body toward the door, he stopped me specifically to inquire whether I was having twins.

Now, keep in mind that Henry was a slim 5 pounds 7 ounces when he was born. There was pretty much no way there were two babies in there. And unfortunately for this particular security guard, I'd reached the limit of my patience with the endless, gratuitous commentary on my body for the duration of my pregnancy.

Nope, I chirped. But thanks for calling me fat!

I think he was genuinely confused.

C'mon, fellas. We know you are not trying to be rude. But give us ladies a break. Just smile and say, You look great. Take it from the Moo Cow -- this is no time to get creative.