i'm at the cowboys game in the press box, and i just had to go to the bathroom. it's halftime. well, while i was there, i saw this incredibly gorgeous, not to mention syrupy sweet, exotic, south american-looking woman. that's how they usually are in sports: beautiful. i'd be floored if that woman knew much about football. but i digress... she was just beaming at the sight of my huge belly. i feel like a cow in general, plus it's hot so my face is bright red and i'm having a bad hair day. such a lovely experience. so she's asking me all kinds of questions about if it's a boy or a girl and how far along i am and when i'm due. then she says, "i was there last year. traveling was horrible." i looked at her again in the mirror, trying with all my might to figure out when in the past five years she could have carried a child in and given birth from that perfectly svelte body. "really? when was yours born?" "july 6."
seriously. is this a joke? you had a baby four months ago, and you look like that?!? excuse me, i'll have to reenter the stall now in order to puke my guts out.
i'm trying to inch my way out the door because i hate looking at my fat, red face in the mirror next to her beautiful, skinny, perfect one, and she says, "do you have a name?" "elizabeth. we'll call her ellie." "oh! my daughter is gabrielle, and we call her ellie!"
isn't that so freakin sweet...