The A$$ Hat: This Summer's Must-Have Accessory for Opinionated Strangers

There is little in this world that brings out stupid comments from friend and foe like pregnancy. I'm not sure if it's because the majority of the population is aware that preggos aren't recommended to partake in fist-fights or because the sight of a pregnant person automatically bestows the seer with a medical degree, but there is no other time in a persons life when they will more wish to live on a deserted island than while with child.





It was during my 4th or 5th month of pregnancy with Critter that I ran into a person who has always been a mega-butt and I should expect no good to come from. Butt Head looked me up and down with his critical eyes and said, not "Congratulations" but "Wow, you've gotten really fat." Which was an especially cruddy comment for him to make, considering I had only gained about 10 pounds.





As I blinked in shock, the only comeback I could think of was to tell him that I was right on target with my weight gain and my doctor had congratulated me for being exactly average.



His response? "Huh. Well, she's not concerened that your butt appears to be what's pregnant, not your stomach?" I had nothing to say to this, so I pretended not to have heard him.




However, when I got home I curled up next to Husband and told him the story with tears streaming down my face. Husband looked at me and responded with all the sympathy of his gender. "Well, what can I say? You know he's an ass hat!"



And out of the ashes of my self-esteem arose the A$$ Hat:








See those little slips of paper sticking out of the top? Those are all the crappy comments people have made to me over the course of my pregnancies. When someone says something stupid, mean, or completely inappropriate, I jot it down on whatever is handy and when I get home I put it in the A$$ Hat. Then, when I'm feeling creative and/or mean spirited I pull out the A$$ Hat and try to come up with retorts to all the stupid things people say.



As you can see, the A$$ Hat is pretty full. And so recently, I changed the Hat's rules. Now I play a different game.



Friday's are pretty boring for me, so Fridays became my Game Day. Each morning on My Most Special Day, I close my eyes and pick a saying from the Hat. Then I pack the diaper bag full of Critter essentials and run all my errands that I have been saving up since the previous Game Day. I make a tally on the slip of paper for each time someone makes the same, or a similar comment. And then I picture them in the Hat, a la Jeff Foxworthy's "Here's Your Sign."



So, Strangers, if you are unable to keep your opinions to yourself, and you run into me on a Friday, and I'm laughing maniacally, that's why. It's because you are wearing the A$$ Hat.

Ya Got Any Weddin' Dresses With Nursin' Flaps?

My sister-in-law is getting married 3 weeks after Nudger's due date, and I am to be a bridesmaid. SIL, faced with the complex task of dressing 7 maids in various stages of reproduction, gave us the option of wearing the dress style of our choice in the color of hers. Bless her.

I went to a local bridal salon to check out different styles and to see if they carried my first style of choice so that I could try it on before I get too rotund. Since bridal salons are never open in the evening, when my sitters are home, I had to take Critter with me.

Upon entering the store, a haughty woman in a severe black dress swooped down on us. She gave my clean, stroller-contained, and SLEEPING baby the stink eye. "Can I help you?" she sniffed, glaring down at Critter like a plague carrying sewer rat.

Immediately ticked that she was treating my sweet, SLEEPING baby like a sticky, screaming terror, I decided on the spot to have a little fun to relieve my stress.

Discreetly I slipped off my wedding rings and responded to her inquiry with my most back-woods-redneck voice. "Yeah, I'm a-lookin' for a weddin' dress. Cheap one." I stuck my hand on my hip, poking my expanding belly over the stroller canopy. "I'm thinkin' I should look at the umpire dresses."

The woman paled, no doubt calculating her commission going down the tubes. "Um... Let me get a consultant..." She looked around her in an apparent attempt to find someone else to pawn me off on. Seeing that there was no one near by to save her she turned back to me in defeat. "Right this way." She gave me her sewer-rat look and stalked toward the back of the store. I followed, making carefully sure to whack the stroller wheel against the counter as I passed it.

Reaching the dressing rooms, I noisily plopped myself on one of the cushy waiting benches. I shoved out my tummy as far as it would go and patted it. "Now, I'm due with Cornbread here in November, and we're shootin' to have the weddin' in October, so I'm gonna need a stretchy dress. Hey, do you know how to keep your turkey-timer from poking thru the material?" Mrs. Horrified pretended not to hear me. "Please wait right here," she instructed. As she walked around the store pulling dresses she kept looking over her shoulder at me as though she expected me to be shoving things into the stroller basket or wiping my nose on the veils.

She returned a few minutes later with 200 pounds of tulle and satin over her arms. I raised my eyebrows at her and snapped my cheek in Ultra Redneck fashion. I patted my belly buddy again. "Do ya really think white is the best option? I mean, I don't think it'll fool anyone." Mrs. Open-Minded glared at me. "All of these dresses can be ordered in cream."

"I was really hopin' for red or green. Ya know, Christmassy and all that since it's late October and nearin' to the holidays." I tapped my foot impatiently. "And I need to hurry here. I gotta go meet my friend to borrow some nursin' bras." As Mrs. Helpful turned to put down the white meringue I could see her roll her eyes. "We don't have red wedding dresses." She huffed. "If you want a colored dress, I suggest you order a bridesmaid dress."

Tiring of my game, I decided to let her off the hook. "You got any of them with nursin' flaps?" At her inevitably witchy response of "no" I stood up and started toward the door. Unable to resist one last jibe I called to her over my shoulder. "Ya know, you should really get a play space in here. Like a ball pit or a train table. Somethin' for the young uns to do while their mama's shop."

***********

Now, I understand that there are some places where one should not bring their children. Bars, adult movie stores, antique china shops...I get that some places are simply not child appropriate. And I see that wedding dress stores, filled with expensive white fabric, could definitely be on the No Rugrats list. I don't take Critter to movies with anything other than a G rating, restaurants that don't have crayons at the hostess stand or ball pits in the sound proof room, wedding ceremonies (even if he's invited) or book club, just to name a few.

But he was ASLEEP. In a stroller. He's not old enough to eat jelly sandwiches, so his hands aren't sticky; he's not old enough to walk, so he can't play hide-and-seek in the dress racks; and he's not old enough to talk, so he's not screaming "Mama, Mama, listen to me sing Barney for the 2 billionth time!"

Was the Wedding Witch justified in treating me poorly because I had an infant with me or was I justified in being a pain in her rear for it?