made on behalf of my pending baby by total strangers in public:
1. Â It’s a boy because my face looks “normal,” not puffy.
Ah…okay. Thanks, I think. Oh, by the way, woman-I’ve-never-seen-before-in-my-life, how do you know what my face looks like normally? I’ll grant you that it does look as normal as my face is able to look, but wha???
2. Â It’s a girl, because I have a lovely suntan.
Well…no, what you’re seeing is the effect of my having accidentally bought a bottle of self-tanning sunscreen because I liked the scent and didn’t read on the label that it would turn me brown-ish. I bought a bottle of Jergens Glow & Protect a while back, on the merit of its scent, which is delightful. I hadn’t realized that it was infused with some sort of voodoo that would make me appear to have a tropical sun-kissed complexion. It wasn’t until the skin between my fingers turned orange that I realised there was something odd with my body lotion.
3. Â It’s a boy, because I’m “carrying high.”
Eeeh? I reckon it’s more a combination of being long waisted, being pregnant with my first, and having originally had a strong core.
It’s refreshing to know that the Old Wives Tales are still holding strong, even in these heady days of science and diagnostics.
I’m just feeling quite fortunate that I haven’t had many people trying to feel on my belly. Because I am not a huggy/touchy person even with my friends, and am especially not-fond of stranger contact. But I suppose my body language and bearing are as such that people don’t find me that particularly physically approachable, and that is fully satisfactory to me.