Belly Rubs

Ok Internet, let me make something perfectly clear just in case any of you end are wondering. The answer is a resounding No. It is not appropriate to rub a pregnant woman's belly. We are not Bhudda, we do not grant wishes, and we will not respond in kind.

Several preggers have brought this up to me in the past, but, until now, I've never had many personal feelings about it as it never happened to me with Rhianna. Apparently, things have changed with pregnancy #2. WAY too many people have passed the personal-space-threshold in the last five days. I don't understand what makes people think this is a reasonable thing to do. Do I rub your growing parts? No. I sure don't. Sure, I'll grab Aspen's boob on occassion, but that's a special understanding between close friends. So here's the rule: unless you have specific permission from mommy-to-be, keep your hands off. Let me explain.

Besides the obvious you-don't-touch-mine-I-won't-touch-yours social rule, you have to understand the plight of the pregnant woman and her belly. Sure, YOU may think it's a miracle -- it may be -- but to preggo chicks around the world, the swelling belly means a lot more than the beauty of life. It means saying goodbye to the body you once recognized as your own, stretchmarks, heartburn, potent gas, and lots and lots of expectations. Whether they know it or not, when someone reaches out to touch that preggo's swelling belly, they have sent her a message. The message, while innocent in intent, is frustrating to me. The message sent is "oh (sigh) how sweet, your baby is growing! it must be wonderful!" Notice the exclaimation points. These exclaimation points come with that look of "don't you feel all snuggly happy about all this glorious pregnancy crap." Well guess what Internet, not all of us feel that way and it's none of your business. Frankly, my belly grosses me out. While there are parts of babydom and pregnancy that truly are amazing, the don't-you-feel-whatever expectations really get to me. It reminds me of Jack Nickolson in the movie As Good As It Gets when he snaps at the Spanish lady that lives across the hall because she tries to make Greg Kinnear's life threatening beating sound like a blessing from the heavens. No, thank-you-very-much, I'm not thrilled about my belly leading my way down the hallway or that my boobs leak whenever I get emotional. And you know what else? That which I do find miraculous and wonderful, I don't feel I should share with the whole non-preggo world. If I do, I'll do it in my blog, not when you give me that look.