Like many women, I sometimes struggle to love my body. I am fit and mostly pleased with my arms and legs, but I have always carried any extra weight in my stomach, even before kids (though I have ogled bikini pictures of my younger self and thought YOU HAD DEFINITION IN YOUR ABS you moron, what was your problem? But that’s not what I would like to discuss right now). Since having kids – and especially since having a daughter  – I have really fought to accept and even embrace my body, flaws and all.

This mostly works. I’m 44 and have concluded that unless I want to cut carbs (never going to happen) or stop drinking (ditto), I will not lose the 5 pounds I think I “should” or at least could lose. Things slow way the hell down metabolism-wise in your mid-40s and unless you are ready to make some serious changes (see above), you will live with a little extra poundage despite rigorous exercise. So yes, I have a little bit more of the midsection flab than I find optimal. Namaste.

Here’s the thing. While bopping along accepting yourself, there are three words that will stop you in your tracks: Are you pregnant?

NO, NO I AM NOT.

This just happened to me and let me tell you, it did not feel good, particularly as I was wearing a dress I fancied myself looking somewhat desirable in. Like maybe a tiny little bit sexy or at the very least cute. It was a dress I pimped around all summer, unawares that it might make me look like there was a small child inside.

If you’ve never been asked this bitch of a question whilst not with child, let me talk you through the immediate slash semi-long lasting effects these words will have on your psyche.

The first thing you will do is pull up the picture that spawned this comment and look at both the zoomed in and zoomed out versions of it for a solid 20 minutes.  You may run to a mirror and examine yourself front-on, sideways (from both sides) and hell, even backwards because I don’t know, your legs are decent and not pregnant-looking so at least you have that going for you. Conversely you may decide you don’t need to look in the mirror ever again.  You will debate burning/destroying/donating the outfit that led to this question. You will make approximately 600 people affirm that you do not look pregnant (even though okay, you can see that in that particular picture – and it is clearly the picture’s fault – maybe it a tiny bit looks like you have a baby bump, but STILL. At least all your other friends are excellent liars/ego-strokers and they lull you into a perhaps false sense that all is okay).

You will nonetheless spend the next one to three days wondering if you should in fact cut those carbs you have refused to cut (which you will remember you are considering doing while eating pizza). You will stop thinking you look pretty bad-ass for a lass your age and start wondering how many other people also wondered/are still in the process of wondering if you are pregnant. You will debate the merits of buying a shirt that says “not pregnant” on it and/or updating your facebook status to report that you are *not* with child, like whatever the opposite of a sonogram might be (you do not actually end up in this crazy land, you just circle it and maybe instead write this blog).

To be fair, there have been times when I have wondered whether someone is pregnant, thinking my Magnum P.I. self may have detected the beginnings of a belly. But here’s what: I’ve never actually asked because I understand that a woman must be giving birth before it is appropriate to throw this question her way. So please, for the love of god, do womankind a favor and don’t ever utter/write the words “Are you pregnant?! Smiley face Smiley face” unless you are 99.9% sure she is, which means that at least one of the following has happened:

1. She is crowning
2. She has explicitly told you or someone you know very well that she is pregnant
3. There is no 3

If you are wondering if a woman is pregnant, she’s not  – until she lets you hold her newborn.