Marathon

As Spiceboy and I walked Betty to the park this morning, a woman passed us on the sidewalk. She looked me up and down, took in my pregnant lady waddle and my huge belly, complete with popped-out belly button, and said, “You look great! You’re almost there—congratulations!”

Her cheerful, motivational tone reminded me of the way people cheer on marathon runners while handing them bananas and Power Bars: “Yay! All right! You can do it! Looking good!”

It was a sweet gesture, and I thanked her and waddled on my way.

Which got me to thinking—how great it would be if the general public treated all women in the last few weeks of their pregnancies like marathon runners? The next 11 days leading up to my due date would be much more bearable if every time I left the apartment, people shouted encouraging mantras at me, like: “Your labor will be a breeze!” or “You’re having a great hair day!” whilst handing me some of the foods I crave most—reuben sandwiches, ice cream, and various salty pork products.

A girl can dream, can’t she?