In the blink of an eye

This morning as I climbed out of the subway, a man approached me and said "What a pretty baby." Now, maybe it's because second trimesters are renowned for making smart women feel like they got stuck with Paris Hilton's intellect, but I looked at him and scowled- "How do you know?" Was this guy prescient? Some kind of baby whisperer?

I stood there staring down at my belly. A few seconds later, it dawned on me that under my heavy winter coat, no one can see my bump just yet. He wasn't actually talking about my baby- he was talking about me!

Now, living in this crazy city, a woman can bear a strong resemblance to a cyclops and still get hit on incessantly, so it's no boast to say that I get my fair share of come- ons. In the last few months, though, whenever I'm approached on the street, I'm shocked. To myself I haughtily think, "Can't they tell that I am above such tawdry approaches? I'm building a a human life here, a placenta and an assortment of a trillion cells that makes one person, unlike any who came before or after. Is he really trying to hit a sister up for the digits?! "

No telling how puffed up I would be if I were carrying multiples.

But then my progressive feminism tapped me on the shoulder and asked- "And why can't you be pregnant and super sexy? Don't fall into the trap of being a breeder. You better put some lipstick on and stop acting like fertility is all you're good for!"

So I dutifully dredged around in my hideously overcrowded purse (only yours truly walks around with a 600 page novel and a copy of Us weekly in a shoulder bag) but all I could come up with is some chapstick I got for free at the dentist's office.

With an ironic smile, I looked at my sensible two inch heels and my brand x chapstick and thought- " How things do change in the blink of an eye."