Saturday, April 3, 2010

This Isn't Pastie Day At The Steamy Espresso Drive Thru. There Will Be No Photos With This Post!*

So there I was pushing the world's biggest car cart through Fred Meyer (our grocery store for those of you out east in Germany, or maybe just as far as Connecticut) and my leggings begin to sag. Not just "drop below my ENORMOUS cement truck sized tummy sag", but "CRUD I better catch these things before I trip over them and end up sprawled on the floor creating a Blues Brother's-esque pile up of all the other car carts speeding around the produce area sag". So, I casually and discreetly rustle under my skirt and pull them up. Except, I'm not wearing a cute little ruffly maternity skirt, I'm wearing the really big hippie dress I bought to eat sticky buns the size of my head after 18 mile runs while training for my marathon last summer. Meaning, there's nothing casual or discreet about reaching under yards of leprechaun green fabric on a dress hemmed with 6'5" Amazon women in mind. I may have flashed a few senior citizens, and probably a whiney toddler or two (mine included).

I then decided that since my peek-a-boo show went over oh so well in the produce section I'd try it in the bread aisle, the cereal aisle, the coffee aisle, the frozen foods section (where I gave a new meaning to the saying "freeze your butt off" when I ran into the lady buying a five gallon tub of strawberry ice cream), the bulk foods aisle, the international aisle (where strangely there is no French food sold), and for good measure the baristas at the coffee kiosk and the cashiers in the family friendly lane. Yeeaahh... I think the only thing that kept concerned citizens from quickly phoning the local police and having me hauled away for indecent exposure was the fact that I very loudly said, "Stupid frickin' boppin'** maternity clothes!!" every time I flashed someone my lady parts. And, probably because they heard about that woman I had "relocated" to Virgina after telling me I waddled and pointing out the enormous size of my belly to the other mother's at the library story time. It's a small town. Word gets around.

*Although there's probably a surveillance tape or two of me doing the maternity cancan floating around Fred Meyer headquarters.
**And, yeah, I like to make up my own swear words when I'm mad.


  1. Nothing makes you feel more pregnant than losin' your britches.

  2. Even with your pants falling down all over the place you look gorgeous. Good thing you relocated that lady, otherwise I'd have to.