Me (sitting in my car, listening to Taylor Swift sing about boys who don't love her, waiting for my Oreo McFlurry in the drive through line of McDonald's) singing: "Romeo save me ~ I've been feeling so alone ~ I've been waiting ~ for you but you never call"
---as I pull up to the pay window with my $2.71 for my freaking Oreo McFlurry---
Dude in drive through window: "OMGCongratulationsAreyouhavingtwinsMysisterishavingtripletsandisshegetting hugeThisissoexciting (dance, dance, dance) WowCongratulations!"
Me (mouth hanging open, staring at this guy who just did a happy dance as he handed me my receipt): "Huh?"
I looked down, at my tummy, clad in a brown sweater. I was sitting down. My seat belt was on. I'm 5 months along, and I've gained 5 pounds. I wouldn't have known I was pregnant if I wasn't urgently wanting to pee. Was my face pregnant? Was it my inflated boobs? Or did he actually see the slight swell of my stomach through the drive through window and automatically know I was pregnant? Because if I were him, I would have thought that I had just drank too many beers the night before.
As I relayed this story to my husband later that night, he started laughing at me. Not with me, not in agreement with me. AT me.
Him: "Let me get this straight. You were sitting in your car, in the drive through of McPregnantWomanVille, listening to McPregnantWomanMusic, waiting for your McPregnantWomanIceCream thing. And you WONDER how he knew you were pregnant? You were the freaking epitome of a McPregnantPerson!"
Me: "Awesome. Thanks."