There’s something nerve wrecking about sitting in a gynaecologist’s waiting room when you are NOT pregnant. The rollercoaster begins with the presumptuous nurse in the triage who just seems to assume your food baby is a 4 month old pregnancy. No Nurse Jane, I just enjoy eating, I am not growing a child in there, maybe a chicken farm but sure as Hell not a human. Then comes the awkward atmosphere that is manifested by her assumptions that your evident weight gain isn’t actually from manufacturing a human. But you proceed to leave and sit in the much dreaded waiting area, well not before you call Nurse Jane some colourful words.
Back to the waiting room and all the expectant mummies are trying to not so discreetly analyse your ‘phantom baby bump’. “Maybe she’s 4 months” says mama carrying twins whose chest is literally looking like it's are about to explode. “No, it looks more like a 5 month bump. She’s tall, so its proportioned out nicely” says the other mummy. How my height and supposed baby bump have any co-relation beats me.
So what does any millennial who doesn’t want to partake in a conversation do, turn to their phone of course. Internet bundles are in plenty and this whole “is she or is she not pregnant” situation is a bit uncomfortable. But as I randomly glance up to make sure my name hasn’t been called, I am met with 6 sets of eyes. Their demeanour glistens with curiosity and I am sure one of them is about to speak. “Hi, sorry to disturb you, but we’ve never seen you here before.” Mama twins speaks with so much glee and the rest of the mummies smile just as brightly.
Well this isn’t awkward at all , “Hi, no bother at all, I usually come on Mondays but daktari wasn’t available.” I state, hoping this conversation ends there, but boy was I wrong. “Ahh, daktari was on leave, if you don’t mind me asking, how far along are you?” mama twins asks again. Heavenly Father, who have I wronged in the universe? Why is everyone trying to speak pregnancy into portion. “Uhm, no I’m not pregnant.” There’s isn’t a word available to describe the shock and embarrassment that shrouded their faces. It was priceless!
The expectant mummies didn’t look in my direction again until I went to see the doctor. When I returned with my prescription and an abundance of tests to be done, the mummies still avoided my eyes.
It seems one only goes to the gyno when manufacturing a human and not when you want to keep the lady parts healthy and functioning well. Anyway, it’s now time to hit the gym and attempt to get rid of my 4 month phantom baby bump.
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