Corny Christmas music is playing in the background. I’ll all bundled up. My wet hair which froze on the way out the door is now temporarily thawing. The fluorescent lights are annoying me, as my stomach growls. I just want to get the heck out of here.
I’m at the grocery store. And at this very moment I’m having out of body experience looking down at myself. Here's what I see:
An uncomfortable pregnant woman whose clutching with all her might two boxes of fish sticks. She's walking as gingerly as possible around the end of the aisle (en route to put a dent in Price Chopper’s cheese department). She got the yak trax on my shoes because Monday’s storm left lots of ice and she's terrified of slipping. Irony is that these things are lethal on the polished grocery store floor.
As I’m baby-stepping and waddling my way over to the cheese, I think to myself, “wow. I never thought it would come to this”:
- I never eat fish sticks, and yet all I want is fish sticks and potatoes.
- I’m waddling again, because I have a bad stitch in my left side that showed up about 24 hours ago, and it just plain hurts to walk.
- Not only am I out on a desperation run to get fish sticks, but I actually think to myself ‘nobody better not try to pry these things from my kung fu grip, or they’ll have to deal with a very cranky pregnant woman.’