Yesterday, my husband, 2.5-month-old son and I went to CVS to get some pics printed for the visiting grandparents. I actually went into the store and left the men in the car to wait. I was fluttering around looking for the right frame.
In the corner of my eye, I noticed an African man who took a special interest in me. He followed my movements and seemed mesmerized. I figured it wasn't me he was so taken with but my decolletage that emphasized my ENORMOUS lactating bOObies. It was a bit awkward so I gave him an obligatory smile and hello as if I were a celeb spied by a grateful fan.
He grinned even more and said "Jill Scott...has anyone ever told you that you look like Jill Scott?"
"No," I replied and scurried off.
Don't get me wrong, Jill Scott is exceptionally beautiful. She's one of the most attractive female entertainers of our time. Since I look NOTHING like Jill Scott (except maybe our complexion and we both rock natural do's), I could only guess my plump post-pregnancy body reminded him of the zaftig Jill Scott.
I was a bit crushed after that encounter. While pregnant, I hoped to pop out a baby and look pre-preggo after a month of breast feeding. Even though I am a relatively sane gal, my irrational brain parts sometimes expect life to be like the celebrity life I digest in my daily dose of Dlisted and Perez. I know celebs are real people that have real babies, but their journey and aftermath seem fake. It's as if they were wearing a little prop bump that was removed after the perfect unblemished baby was provided. We all know that excess money allows you daily food delivery services, personal trainers and 24-hour child care. However, it's easy to forget about that stuff when you're post-preggo chubby...and when some nice, well-meaning gentleman subtly calls you fat.
I guess I should be thankful he didn't call out "You sho' is ugly!"
