I still don’t think I look pregnant. Just thick around the middle and generally…thicker. Sadly, A. seems to agree most of the time. Yesterday, however, I started thinking that maybe I do look pregnant. Here’s what happened: I went to a tea shop – one of those fancy ones with a gazillion types of tea (apparently, tea is the new coffee, or something like that). Once I was in, I was immediately accosted by a salesgirl. The following exchange ensued (some things are paraphrased, mind you):
Shopgirl: “Hi there. Welcome to Blah Blah Tea Shop. Can I help you?”
Me: “I’m just looking, thanks.”
SG: “Well, if you’d like, we have two teas we’re sampling today. Key Lime Green Dream Something or Other and Mandarin Orange I Tuned Out.”
Me: —blank look on face—
SG: (after two second pause and a once over) “If you prefer a one without caffeine, it’ll be the Mandarin Orange.”
Me: “Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.”
I then had a sip of the said tea, which was great, by the way. So either she thought I was preggers and offered me the decaf, or I looked so perky that more caffeine didn’t look like a good idea. I can assure you that it was not the second.