If I Wasn’t a God-Fearing Woman…

There would be words said.  Oh yes.  And the world is a better place for the lack of their utterance when they are so nearly provoked.  But here’s a glimpse into what I would like to say.

Stranger:  (Looks at four children and my protruding pregnant belly, then at my husband with a look of horror)  “CUT IT OFF MAN!  GET IT SNIPPED!  HA-HA!”


Stranger:  “Wow!  It looks like you have your hands full!”  (shakes head in wonderment)

Me:  “Wow!  It looks like you have your pants full!  Didn’t you know jeggings are unflattering on most everybody?”  (shakes head in wonderment)

Stranger:  “Is this a planned pregnancy?”

Me:  “Did you plan that outfit?”

Stranger:  “Wow…four…don’t you know what causes that?”

Me:  “No, because, despite my modern appearance, I am actually a cavewoman.”

Stranger:  “Better you than me.”

Me:  “Obviously.”

Stranger:  “This is the last one, right?”

Me:  “This is the last time you rudely intrude on a stranger’s personal life, right?”

Stranger:  “Are you done now?”

Me:  “Am I a turkey?”

Stranger:  “There’s an operation for that, you know.”

Me:  “There’s a plastic surgeon for that, you know.”  (points to their nose)

Stranger:  (stares at the lot of us)

Me:  (crosses my eyes and sticks my tongue out)

Stranger:  “You have a beautiful family.”

Me:  “You have a beautiful soul.  Thanks for not being a judgmental meanie-pants.  Thanks for acknowledging children’s worth and right to be around.  Are you a hugger, because I sort of want to hug you.”  (awkward silence)

There…I’ve said the words that crawl up my throat and I swallow back down with regularity.  I’m glad I didn’t say them to the precious precocious individuals who offered me unsolicited advice about my family and our way of doing life.  Because people really do deserve the grace of polite smiles and forbearance.  Because I say the wrong things too.  Regularly.


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