"You sure you're not pregnant?"

"These cucumber eyes are lying the more that I smile about."

-Frou Frou

So I know that I said enough with the word thing...in lieu of more picture thing, but this blog was too richly embedded in wrath that I could not pass it up.

Sidenote-my move to Miami might get changed from August to September.  I'm pissed and I don't want to talk about it.

HOWEVER- I have put in my notice, as you all have probably already read, at both Starbucks and Bare Escentuals (for Annapolis anyway).  I would be ok with postponing my resignation at the make-up store.  I like the people there.  It is a creative outlet.  I am able to make it fun.  Its ok.  And then there is Starbucks.  Literally, the only reason why I am not completely despondent when I walk into that place is the fact that I know (knew?) I was only going to be there till August.  It was only yesterday that I found out I might be staying here for longer.  Last night I was thinking about it while doing dishes at Starbucks...and I was in tears.  TEARS!  I'm pretty good at being uncomfortable, but I am so not kidding when I say that in no way am I capable of working there any longer than August 16th.  If I can even make it that far-

 

Yeah its partly the fact that everyone there is either older/married with children, or very very very very very young, and as a result I it is pretty difficult to find things to talk about with my co-workers.  That the customers never really say hello back.  That when the customers do say something to me, its usually something to the effect of, "SMILE!" (which I CANNOT stand!  My not smiling face on display is not one of misery.  Rather it is one of "let me not F- up this iced triple grande soy lite whip lite ice in a venti cup latte."), "um I want HER to make my drink because you messed it up last time," "hey are you one of the Starbucks' that is closing?", "UGH! (eye roll) what do you MEAN you guys don't make decaf frap base anymore?", etc. etc. etc.  That I have to clean the public bathrooms (I've got a flipping masters degree.  The only toilet I will ever voluntarily scrub is my own).  BUT MOSTLY, for situations like the following:

This past Sunday I was leaving work when I was stopped by a co-worker on the way to my car.  She was sitting outside with a few of her friends.  And there were some other people (REGULARS!) sitting within earshot of her words, which were as follows:

"Katie, I've been meaning to talk to you about this- You've been looking kind of big in the stomach area lately-"

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!  Ok.

1. I have worked VERY HARD to lose about 20 pounds since moving from Savannah in November.  Stress, poverty, and depression certainly take its toll on you whilst working on a masters thesis.  I certainly had some weight that I could lose, but even then- no one would have EVER called me fat. 
   
2. In high school I was somewhat of a unintentional anorexic.  I had an extreme case of social phobia.  I pretty much ran with one girl all through high school, and consequently, she was never in the same lunch I was always assigned to (We had 3 different lunch periods at good ol' Annapolis High School).  So I did what any level headed 13-17-year-old would do...instead of making the EXTREMELY dangerous walk over to a table of new people and introducing myself, I took the much less painful route.  I took an extra class instead of lunch.  Consequently, it was always a photography class offered at that time.  Hurrah, to my very unhealthy photography roots.  SO- I would have to be in school by 7:17am (on an empty stomach, because that is just too damn early for food), go 7 straight class periods till 1:55pm (maybe having eaten an apple or some peanut butter crackers that I snuck into Spanish class), and then go run track or cross country for 3 hours after school.  The only meal I ever consistently ate throughout those 4 years was dinner.  I look back on those years and just remember going to sleep when I would get back from practice, waking up for dinner, then sleeping for the rest of the night afterwards.  Gee, I wonder why!  How STUPID!
3. WHO THE HELL SAYS THAT!?  I don't care how fat someone may or may not be!

I believe I answered (after realizing my jaw was on the ground), something to the effect of, "well, I'm not sure what to say about that, but I did just lose a lot of weight, and I make a point of going to the gym as much as my schedule allows..."

"OH! No, I didn't mean, like, that you're looking fat," she stammered, "I meant, like, maybe something else was going on...?"  *insert eye brow raise*

I'm not pregnant.  I've never been pregnant.  Perhaps-I will never be pregnant.  And I've CERTAINLY never looked like I've been pregnant, no matter how much  I have weighed!  Honestly, if you do not know if someone is pregnant, why would you ever ask them unless you had some sort of proof?  Like seeing a foot poking out of the mother's stomach! 

I informed her, much more politely than I should have, that I was indeed not pregnant.  And then I promptly turned and walked to my car, whilst all the regulars whispered to one another.  I'm pretty sure I heard a "you sure you're not pregnant?!" but I ignored it.

I shook it off, and didn't much let it get to me.  Everyone to whom I have recounted this story has come to the conclusion that this is some very jealous, very crazy girl.

I'd pretty much forgotten about it.  Until today.  

"Katie, you're glowing today!  Whats going ON!?!" *insert eyebrow raise*

I really do not consider myself a violent person, but...

At this very moment, my manager (who is younger than me) is pregnant with her second child, and this girl, cannot be more than 20, has a kid herself.  Does she think that Starbucks is a hotbed for pregnancy inducing pheromones? Is she just looking for baby mama company?  Is she trying to make the blond, thin, attractive girl feel bad about herself?  Whatever it is-I am pretty friggin' over it.

And I apologize for the cliche cyberspace stomach shot, but it had to be done.  There is no baby in there.