I GET IT! I GET IT! I GET IT! I am a complete fat-ass with a gigantic gut! Can people PUUUUHHHHHLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZ stop reminding me of this?!?!?!
Once AGAIN today someone referenced the alleged baby in my belly. SON. OF. A. BITCH! I could handle it if the people were mean--it's the niceness and sincerity that kills me. I'd have no problem firing back a witty, hurtful retort if the person was malicious. I can't bear to hurt someone's feelings who thinks they are connecting with me--WOMAN TO FREAKING WOMAN.
FUCK! Have NONE of you learned ANYTHING in your years as a woman?! DO NOT COMMENT ON ANOTHER WOMAN'S BODY! EVER! NO MATTER HOW PREGNANT YOU THINK SHE IS!!!!!!!!!
And then I started to cry--went from furious to sniffling in about 40 seconds. I get it. I walk around as the worst sort of nightmare: a poser, a ghost of a pregnant lady who had the worst possible ending. I got kicked out of the club with one swift boot but failed to give back the uniform.
If only I hadn't been in the middle of a yoga class. So much for zen.
Clearly, this isn't the worst thing about having your baby die while inside your body. Far from it. But these are the the far-reaching ramifications, the physical reminder. It's easier to deal with grief than weight loss, I guess.