(Start with "Monday" if you can. Unless you're on vacation. Then get away from the computer as fast as is humanly possible.) So what were we talking about? Oh, right. Keeping yourself from being sucked into the pregnancy merriment vortex of those around you: Your pregnant cousin, coworker, next door neighbor.
Avoid these women at all costs. It's easier than explaining why you're not in any mood to be part of all of their giddy rituals and festivities.
The next door neighbor is the easiest to ditch. For me, it would be extremely easy to not talk to my neighbor for nine months. We've lived here for three years. I couldn't pick out my next door neighbor in a three-person line-up.
Like right now for instance. I just saw some teens running down the block and into the house across the street. I have no idea if they live there or are robbing it. I'll watch the news later and see if there's any mention.
So just plan your newspaper retrieval, moving of garbage cans and picking up of mail when the neighbor is not in view. And if you see her coming during one of these duties, just remember, you can out-run her.
One preggo down.
The cousin is also easily dismissed. All you need to do is avoid all family functions for nine months. Sounds impossible.
More impossible than spending the holidays ducking behind poinsettia or a menorah so that nobody will talk to you about how good your cousin looks or pry into what's going on in your ovaries?
Of course if you don't attend the holiday festivities this year, those who do attend will spend all night talking about you and why you didn't attend. I'd be good with that.
You know how people always say: "If you have something to say, say it to my face."? What for?
Personally, I'd just as soon have them talk behind my back. Why waste my time with their stupidity? Like Billy Joel says: "You can speak your mind. Just not on my time."
Of course some do-gooder like your mom or your sister who was at the bash (a bash in every sense of the word) will be hitting your number on speed dial as she's backing out of the party house driveway to give you the nitty-gritties.
And, that, my dears is what call waiting is for: To pretend you have another call so you can politely hang up on somebody. Or, even better: Caller ID. So you don't have to answer it in the first place.
Two preggos down.
The third chick on the list is the hardest to ignore: The coworker.
She sits just one thin-walled cubicle away. Not only does she spend all day searching for cute maternity crap online, she keeps calling other coworkers over to ask their opinion on it. And you have to hear all of it.
You hear her being excited about everything and the parade of coworkers being bored out of their skulls.
Destroy something. Yeah, if something were broken in your cubicle, perhaps you could just pick up your plant and your photos and sashay over to that one...way over there...next to the unbelievably noisy copier, on the other side of the twelve foot sound-proof wall.
Or, ear buds. Shove some nearly invisible ear phones into your ears and listen to music if you can. My mother's eighty year old cousin slips his hearing aid into his pocket whenever his sister starts talking.
Right now you're doing the infertility hokey-pokey... And "self-preservation"--That's what it's all about.
Three preggos down.
Listen, I gotta go. I'm going to put on the eleven o'clock news. I've piqued my own curiosity about that house across the street. I wonder if anybody does live there.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.