Bladder speaks louder than words.

Today I experienced another pregnancy first: it was the first time I got the special pregnancy treatment from a stranger in a public place. 

No, not the bus passenger offering me their seat on a crowded bus…

Not a fellow pedestrian offering to help me carry my bags…

No, it was the best kind of all: letting me skip ahead in line in a public women’s restroom.

I walked in and saw the stalls all closed, and then a woman came out. I walked up to it and then out of the corner of my eye realized there was actually a line of older women from a tour. I instinctively stepped back and put my hand out for the next in line to go, but she nodded politely and gestured for me to feel free. I was about to engage in the polite back-and-forth of “No, please, you go next…” when it registered that she had glanced at my belly.

Aha. Older or not, she was going to feel bad for the bladder-pressured pregnant woman.

I felt bad at first, but that didn’t last long. I could get used to this. For now.







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