Wednesday, April 9, 2014
**Hey, everyone. I just want to apologize for having the post up so late! I've been at work all day and didn't realize I had somehow scheduled both posts for this week to appear on Friday. I didn't realize my mistake until I got home and saw a few comments on my last post wondering where today's post is. Again, I'm sorry! I'll try to get a bonus post up by Sunday to make it up to you. Thanks for reading!**
"What an idiot," Kate mumbled around a mouthful of grilled cheese. I'd given her the rundown on my encounter with Michael at Holly's house. She'd come home from work tired and starving, so I made her a grilled cheese while I talked.
I'm not going to be pushed around or treated poorly and I had called Officer Reilly to report the violation as soon as I had arrived back at Kate's. Despite Rob offering to contact Rebecca on my behalf, this is my life and my responsibility. I had emailed her myself and included the names and phone numbers of other game night attendees should witnesses ever be required. I have desperately been hoping that as time went on, Michael would realize that he fucked up and he'd back down. His snarky comments and unwillingness to leave Holly's house as soon as he saw I was there shows that he apparently doesn't understand that here willbe consequences. Unfortunately for him, he's making things worse for himself and his chance at being in our child's life.
Kate and I chitchatted while she finished eating and I cleaned the kitchen. I have devoted enough time already to thinking about Michael, worrying about Manda and talking about the both of them. Instead, she filled me in on the latest strip club drama.
"Destiny is a hot mess, seriously." Kate was referring to a fellow dancer who I had briefly met. Destiny is basically every negative stripper stereotype people envision. She's kind of old for a dancer (35 maybe? Most of the other girls are younger than 26). She's past her prime due to living rough, yet she has no plans to retire from the biz. Her hair is bleached platinum with perpetual dark roots, she tans way too much and she has ridiculous fake boobs. Destiny has four kids with four different men and a nasty coke and alcohol problem. It's sad, really. She had been super sweet to me when I had met her, but it was obvious her life was a wreck.
"What'd she do this time?" I inquired. The last time I'd heard a story about Destiny, she had punched a new girl in the face for "stealing" Destiny's regulars. After that fiasco, Destiny is on thin ice.
"Well, she was giving a dance to some dude in the VIP room, right? And she was obviously wasted - no joke, her stage routine was basically her stumbling around and hanging on to the pole, swaying to the beat of her own drum. Well, this guy comes in quite a bit and always drops a lot of cash. She tries to do some move and pukes red wine all over the guy! The dude stormed out and swore he's never coming back."
I grimaced. I couldn't image being either person in that scenario.
"That is really gross. What did the manager do?"
"He fired her on the spot. Told her to go clean up, called her a cab and had one of the bouncers walk her out. She may have cost us one of our best customers."
I nodded, saying it made sense and I could agree with the decision.
We talked a bit more, the conversation turning to her friend Jack. Kate has a huge thing for him (he's the one she locked herself in the bathroom crying about a few weeks back). Apparently, they had a drunken heart-to-heart last week where he admitted he's into her, too. They'll be going out on a not-quite-date this weekend. Kate looked so animated and happy gushing about Jack. She's known him since high school and I've known him for three years or so. I'm hoping Kate doesn't get her hopes up, though. She's never really had a boyfriend and I've never seen her look so happy talking about a guy.
Eventually, I realized I was too tired to focus on our conversation. Kate and I said our good nights and she retired to her room while I made myself comfortable on the couch. Only three more days until I had the keys to my new apartment!
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone vibrated. Knowing how late it was and worrying something could be wrong, I grabbed it to check my texts. I had a text from Eric: "Hey, beautiful. Can't wait to see you tomorrow <3 span="">3>
With a smile on my face, I drifted off to sleep.
Oh, my god. I went with Kate to yoga this afternoon and it was...interesting. At the start of every class, the instructor (a super friendly, engaging woman) announces that modifications for the poses will be provided to anyone who needs it. We are encouraged to let her know if we are pregnant or have any health concerns. She'd worked with me on doing modified or different poses that are safe during pregnancy. She even offered me some information about a prenatal class which might be more my thing right now. About ten minutes in, a woman came in late. She looked to be even further along than me, maybe 7 months? I mentally high-fived her for being active during her pregnancy - I've known a lot of women who are happy to just sit on the couch and get fat, exclaiming that they're eating for two, and then they're surprised when they gain 60+ pounds and never really lose the weight. I digress.
The class isn't very big and everyone is fairly quiet. I suddenly hear the lady snap at our instructor.
"Are you teaching me these poses because you think I'm pregnant?"
The instructor widens her eyes, starts to nod.
"Yeah, well I'm not. I'm just fucking fat. Maybe you shouldn't assume things!"
The room, which was almost silent to begin with, goes dead quiet. Everyone is looking embarrassed for both the not-pregnant woman and the instructor. Everyone always says you should never ask a woman when she's due or even hint at pregnancy unless you're damn well sure she's pregnant. Others go so far as to one that you should never assume a woman is pregnant unless you can see the baby crowning. Honestly, the woman's body looked very similar to mine. Her stomach is rounder and larger, and she's heavier overall, but I honestly would not bat a lash if she said she's due in 8 weeks.
A gentle clearing of throats seems to resonate through the room as everyone awkwardly pretends they aren't eavesdropping.
The woman breaks the silence, shouting that none of us have any right to judge or make assumptions about her. She starts laying in to the instructor, going on about what a horrible person she is and how dare she make her feel bad about how she looks. Honestly, it became very awkward and uncomfortable very quickly. Everyone in the room is shuffling about, making quick eye contact with each other as if to say, "Is this really happening?"
The instructor, looking properly shamed, stammers an apology. She tries explaining that she meant no offense, apologizing profusely. It was tough to watch. By the end of it, I had zero sympathy left for the not-pregnant lady. Her tirade and personal attacks were really uncalled for. I can absolutely understand why she felt hurt and upset, but she took it too far. Finally, thankfully, the lady stormed out. The instructor had tears in her eyes and looked absolutely mortified.
After that scene, everything seemed to return to normal. Kate and I stopped for smoothies on the way home and uncomfortably rehashed what we'd seen. It was surreal, like something out of a movie.
When I got home, I took a long, hot shower (my favorite!) where I shaved, exfoliated and deep conditioned my hair. Eric had hinted that he had something special prepared for tonight and I wanted to look my absolute best.
I took my time getting ready, agonizing over what to wear. I found a really cute summery dress in my closet that still fit and made me look hot. Due to my raging hormones, I nearly cried when I realized it'd be too cold to wear without a jacket and I had nothing suitable to pair with it. Of course, Kate being her awesome self, found "just the thing" that I could borrow. It was a sleek dove-grey faux leather jacket that paired perfectly with the lilac dress I had my heart set on. The muted grey worked really well with the coloring and the cut was just right. I'm not sure I'll be able to utton it over my getting-huge belly, but I looked great and that was the important thing!
I was applying the finishing touches to my makeup and had just spritzed myself with a light perfume when I heard a knock at the front door.
I felt my heart skip a bit (total cliche, I know) when I peered through the peephole.