The thing about trying to get pregnant/being pregnant, is that you start to see pregnant women everywhere. This is probably true everywhere in the world, but when you’re in Israel, you really are seeing them everywhere because out of all the demographics in Israel, the one thing they have in common – whether charedi, Arab, or secular – is that they like their babies.
Usually, seeing pregnant women walking around Jerusalem is a positive experience. The maternity clothes are fun, the women are usually attractive. Then, once in a while, you come across something so utterly disgusting, it makes you want to run your car over it.
I’m talking about a giant, third-trimester arsit waddling around puffing a cigarette with the rest of the pack in her other hand. We were confronted with this scene today, as we sat in our car at the train station waiting to pick up some friends. The car was on and it took everything for us to not step on the gas and run this woman over, thus saving her unborn child from a life of misery and patheticness.
And I don’t mean because of the side effects of being born crappy from a smoking mom. I mean being born the son of an arsit, aka, a Beitar hooligan.