It comes to us all

In the lead-up to Christmas my work-colleagues have a long lunch-break together, and a bit of a drink, and generally get talkative. I was therefore sitting in the pub, waiting for my lunch and drinking coffee (I never drink at lunch and then go back to work – I’m enough of a clutz without being tipsy into the bargain, and after all, my job does involve scalpels (heh heh heh)) surrounded by people whose highest common factor topic of conversation is medical dramas on the television. So that is what we were earnestly discussing.

One plot-line had apparantly involved a birthing-pool, so I was chattering about my sister’s very jolly experience lolling about in one eating sweeties when she was in labour. Instantly my boss practically lunged across the table, tapped my (alcohol-free) coffee mug and said archly ‘Birthing-pools? Is there something you want to tell us, May?’

‘No,’ said I, smiling, ‘We were talking about TV writer’s perceptions of labour.’

‘Oh,’ said the boss, looking slightly crestfallen. And the conversation moved on.

AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH.

Thank you. I feel better now.

And I award myself one small gold star for not melting in a downward direction at the time.

Advertisements

4 responses to “It comes to us all

  • Heather

    Only one gold star? I think that earns at least half a dozen, if not more.

    I HATE when people do that. I’m sure they are being cute but SHEESH.

  • Solnushka

    Grrr. Do you know I decided the other day that there is virtually _no_ woman over the age of 30 to whom that kind of comment is not grounds for an automatic kicking.

    I mean, either you don’t want kids and are fed up of people assuming you do.

    Or you don’t want kids yet but are starting to feel anxious about all that ticking going on in your ear.

    Or you are trying to have kids and are not quite there yet, which is obviously not going to make you receptive.

    Or you can’t have kids, which implies that you’d quite like to have had them or you wouldn’t know.

    Or you are pregnant but are unhappy about that. Or just quietly stressing about it while waiting for your 12 week scan thing and the initial all clear.

    The main problem I have is that having messily miscarried all over everyone, refusing the end of week wine is automatic grounds for everyone at work to exchange knowing glances. Even when I’m dripping with a cold and obviously doped up on lemsip.

  • May

    Hello, Heather, thanks for commenting!

    Ow, Sol. Do they really? Tactless swine. Oafs, in fact. *hug*

    I feel I should wearing a tee-shirt, reading:
    ‘No, I am not pregnant. This (little arrow pointing at belly) is chocolate.’

    Or possibly one saying: ‘If you ask me if I’m pregnant I will ask you when you last had sex in return.’

  • Mel

    Definitely more than one star…

    And as per the comment this week, can you switch doctors? If it’s an option, I’d definitely seek out someone with concrete advice. Actual directions for achieving goals…

    The guilt sucks.

%d bloggers like this: