I am starting to realize that, the more time that goes by, the closer it is getting to the time when I will actually have to start telling people about this whole baby thing. I am not really showing yet, at least not to other people. I can tell that my belly no longer likes to be contained in my favorite jeans and that there is a little less room in my drawstring pants which once required constant attention so that I was not walking around nude from the waist down. But other than that, things, to the naked eye, are just as they have been. But I know that this stage will not last forever. I know that soon I will be sporting that “baby bump” that I dread so much. I still haven’t told the majority of my family, and not because they will react terribly or anything like that, but because I really try and find some creative, yet suitable (or totally inappropriate) way to break any news. (Once, when I decided to move across the country, I told my mom that I had a brain tumor and had three months to live, you know, that way when she found out I was just moving, she would be relieved and not kill me. Although, she may have wanted to kill me more after that…whatever.)
I don’t really have the energy to make some big, elaborate announcement complete with confetti and all that jazz. I kind of just want to send an email to all of the family that says, “I’m knocked up. Send presents. Do not touch my belly. I will cut you. Good day.” And while that might do the trick for the family (some of whom live on different continents), I am not sure that I can be that nonchalant about it with these bitches in my office. You see, I work with 23 women and no men. NO MEN. And yes, it is pure hell. Especially for someone like me, who prefers the company of people who compliment the beer-pong playing, shot-taking, frat boy in me. Because it is less work to be a frat boy. You don’t have to think, much less emote. At all. (Hanging out with dudes is like an emotional vacation after being in my office for 40 hours per week.) I am worried that, with these office people, (with whom I never share an ounce of information about my personal life) I will not be able to properly convey (without physical violence) that I am not kidding about the fawning and oohing and awwwing and belly touching. It will not happen or they will die. DIE.
I think I decided that the best way to break the news is to tell the family first (probably on Thanksgiving) some in person, some via whatever other method I can tolerate said family member best, and then posting something on Facebook. My dilemma is, I don’t want nine million replies to the post asking questions. I also am not sure how to be witty and still be clear that I am hormonal and am perfectly capable of ripping throats out.
Why can’t everyone just read my mind already? Sheesh. What a bunch of inconsiderate bastards. This is too stressful!