This morning, as I was walking into the gym, it was raining. Hard. I had Juliet in my arms with the umbrella, Jillian was holding my hand and I had my messenger style purse/diaper bag slung over my head with the strap bisecting my boobs. We were walking as fast as possible for such a motley crew and when we got to the door, Jillian let go of my hand, ran up to the handicap button and pushed it so that the door would open. She got there just as an older woman, in her sixties or seventies I would guess, was approaching. Jillian pushed the button and then skipped towards the door in that strange, happy, toddler, bouncy way. The older woman looked at me, smiled as we went through the door and then waited and rode the elevator with us, during which the following occurred ...
Her: You have such beautiful girls.
Me: Thank you.
Her: You've been busy!
Me: Yah, they keep me on my toes.
Her: Yes, but you've been busy - they are so close together in age (Me thinking HOLY SHIT SHE IS TALKING ABOUT BABY SEX) and another on the way so soon.
Me, realizing she thinks I'm not only a nympho but a pregnant one no less: Oh! No! This is just an unfortunate shirt/purse/look.
Her: Noooo. Nothing looks unfortunate when you are expecting.
Me: No, uh, no baby, I'm not pregnant.
Her: OH! You're coming to workout. (LOOKS AT MY NOT A BABY GUT) Yes. I see.
Ugh people, ugh. I was on the way to workout. I was carting around two kids, an umbrella and a ginormo purse/diaper bag. Was it really necessary to call me a fat nympho?