Breeder!

It turns out that I’ve got used to people reacting positively when they find out I’m pregnant, with responses all over the Happy Spectrum from polite affirmation (male colleagues and the women I gift lifts to on the way back from work) to zealous joy (broody colleagues and my and Dylan’s mothers).

But today when a couple of lady colleagues were told that I am “with child” (which made me feel like a character in the Bible), they sneered. They smirked. They sniggered. They pointed and yelled, “Breeder!” and laughed uproariously.

The “conversation” kind of went like this.

Lady colleague 1 (LC1): Why did you go and do that?

Me: Uh…

Lady Colleague 2 (LC2): Was it a mistake?

Me: No, we’ve been married for a year and a half. We –

LC2: Were just ready to breed? *raises sceptical eyebrow*

LC1: So how many are you going to have?

Me: Two?

LC2: Right, so we can thank you for the 7-billion explosion.

Me: The real problem is consumption, not –

LC1: At least you’re not scummy. I don’t mind if good people breed, but we don’t want the scummy ones to overpopulate the earth.

Me: Right.

As much as it irked me, it’s good to realise that not everyone is thrilled that I not only managed to make a human with my and my husband’s genitals, but that I’ve also managed to carry the Lemon successfully (touch wood) for 15 weeks.

It was just what I needed: a new perspective on shit.

Note: These LCs weren’t much younger than me, and one of them is married (unless she’s wearing a ring to ward off prospective suitors, although I doubt it).

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