BUCKING THE SYSTEM: CURIOSITY AND SYMPATHY FROM ONE BIG GIRL TO ANOTHER

I've been having a running e-mail conversation with Heidi Nieland over the past two weeks about my pregnancy and how it's affecting my life. We all know Heidi's a funny girl, but I just didn't realize how funny she was until this series of messages.

Without revealing too many details, let's just say Heidi wanted to know about the real life of a pregnant woman. "How did Patrick react?, "Was this a planned pregnancy?", and "What are your post-partum plans for birth control?" were only a few of the questions the dear girl wanted me to answer.

Her reasoning was simple. Heidi and I are about the same age and have similar body shapes and career aspirations. She wanted to know about my experiences so she could decide whether or not to put a sleep timer on her own biological clock.

Well, I put all her fears at ease, although I doubt I gave her anything really concrete to work with. But what's funny is the one thing I forgot to tell her about is the question I've been asking myself for the past two weeks.

What is it with people when they get around a pregnant woman?

This is my second trip down the child-bearing road, and I've noticed that a lot of people lose all sense of propriety and common courtesy around women who are in the family way. For example, people, some of whom are barely acquainted with me, have started to notice that my unborn child is beginning to show himself more these days. I'm not sure what it is, but it's as if my stomach now beckons their hands to reach out and touch an area of my body they have no business bothering.

Maybe they think I'm Buddha and that rubbing my belly will bring them luck. Or, as I've informed at least one friend of mine, maybe they've simply got a bad case of pregnancy envy. Whatever the reasoning, I just know I don't really care for the action.

Another thing people like to do is ask how much weight I've gained. Is that really their business, and did I share that information before I was expecting? I mean, Heidi is my compatriot and I love her to death, but as far as I'm concerned, SHE will always be the poster child for big women around these parts.

You all may speculate about my weight, but my driver's license has a big enough number for me, and that's the lie I'm sticking to.

Just because my weight gain is more obvious doesn't mean it's an open topic for conversation. Besides, nobody asks Patrick or Heidi's Other Half about their weight. Sympathy pains are a real symptom in my house, and it's Patrick and not I who is running around drinking grapefruit juice and researching diet plans right now.

So Heidi, if you're reading this, just know that whenever you and your Other Half decide to bring another Hall into your household, some people will be rude and make you grit your teeth to keep from spitting or hissing at them.

But look for me in your time of need, and I'll help you through it. I'll be the one with the waffle cone in one hand and the watermelon (sans the seeds) in the other. That's what friends are for.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.