I got married last year, go me! Attended a wedding this weekend for a cousin of mine. On the drive up, I got some really amazing news. Totally elated, I sort of screamed my Tall Guy’s ear off and nearly made him drive us off the road when I lurched over for a kiss/hug combo. Excitement’s a deadly thing, guys.
At the Welcome-Out-of-Towners Party (my family has them, it’s a thing), I ran up to people, hugged them, and squealed, “Guess what you just hugged?”
If I paused too long between the “Guess what you just hugged?” and the answer, I got this:
“Two people! You’re pregnant!”
I see how they got there, but, um. No.
“I’m published!” I screamed. And usually, people went with the excitement and did the scream-dance with me, or laughed at me while I did. Some people even got the news secondhand and came over to scold me for not telling them in person, which was awesome.
But there were some people who’s eyes dimmed a little after they found out there was no burgeoning life in my womb. Whose chosen ‘P’ word could in no way compete with the real ‘P’ word. And to these people, I’d like to say, “My uterus has been fully functional since I was eleven. You never asked about pregnancy then. You’re right, I’m married. And I still remember everything I knew about birth control from the pre-married days. Butt out of my birth canal, babies. And get excited that this amazing woman in front of you is getting PUBLISHED.”
Instead, I just ran off and found someone else to tell.