Are you expecting?

A friend of mine just posted this awesome entry about being asked if she was expecting when she was not. We all have some version of this story, don’t we? If you don’t, step off. If you do, let me share mine.

It was maybe 4 years ago and I’d been talked into modeling an outfit from a downtown store at our GTWoman Network Nite.

A) The modeling gig had started out shaky. The boutique had maybe two tops in its long closet-like store that might fit me. I didn’t feel large until I ripped the armpit out of one of the shirts in the dressing room. B) I surprised myself, marching on, fearless (and trapped) in the face of a store full of single digit sizes. C) With some elbow grease (literally), we finally found one top, one pair of jeans and one pair of boots to fit my lovely 5-foot-8 frame.

In the end, I felt sexy and wild and carefree – my cleavage was showing! I had cowboy boots on! I had a lovely flowy top that showed my BLACK LACE bra. Hot stuff!

There was lots of ribbing at the actual Network Nite about the peek of my black bra, there were a few drinks ordered, photos taken. Truth be told, we were having a blast. I was thinking of keeping those gorgeous red cowboy boots that would set me back over $200.

So I did my thing, strutted the length of the room, and flashed that bra.

Then, just after stepping out of the beautiful hot spotlight, a woman whose face I can not remember but wish I did now, asked me…

“When are you expecting?”

I was like, ‘”Expecting? Expecting what? A compliment??? Any minute now, bitch.”

So pissed. Still.