What you should never ask a woman

"Is it a boy or a girl?"
"You're really starting to show, aren't you?"
"When are you due?"
"Are you pregnant?"

All great questions to someone who is pregnant, but a bit jarring to someone who simply has an ample sized omentum and is just innocently moseying about her day, grocery shopping, entering her apartment, riding the train, leaving work. These questions definitely rank as downers, putting the other oft-used, uninvited, mood-destroying comment: "You look tired", to shame.

Somewhat unfortunately, I look younger than my age, so even in my mid 40s, fertile years dwindling, when one ought to be able to safely let it all hang out, I find I have no such freedom. It never ceases to amaze that the interrogators haven't reflected on the possible mortification, for both themselves and the woman in question, should the answer be in the negative. With the assumption that most women might have sensitivity around body image issues, it is all the more surprising when the question comes from a woman, not to mention from one who also is rotund at the waist.

Before one justifies their asking with: "But you/she really looked pregnant!", let me say that I'm not implying that I or others who receive this question don't recognize our possible resemblance to expectant mothers; we are likely hyper-aware, as we dress in the morning, shop for clothes, look in the mirror or catch glimpses of ourselves in windows. But with obesity on the rise and ever expanding waistlines, why not first assume that the woman is just plain fat (of the high risk for diabetes/heart disease variety)? Or maybe has another medical issue? In fact, I would much prefer fielding the  straightforward question "Have you been gaining weight?"...or, even suffer the bluntness of one of my Chinese supervisors in acupuncture school:: "Too fat here!!" she would loudly reprimand patients, with a firm squeeze to the belly, "Need exercise!"...because at least that is true.

The most disturbing aspect of the pregnancy question is that it is always laced with a secretive, all knowing, excited, congratulatory glint in the eye, "pregnant" with the expectation of the joyous conversation to follow. The drop in status from glowing baby carrier to everyday overweight woman is palpable; I become the cruel killer of their fantasy life inside me. I can't help but feel responsible and apologetic that my fatty apron and I have somehow unfairly lured them into this deception; I irritatingly feel obliged to skillfully placate the inquisitors, absolve them of their guilt, as the realization of their shameful misstep washes over them, usually rendering them speechless or stumbling over words.. Sadly, the apologies usually involve repeating the offensive statement, “oh... sorry...I just thought you were....” Yeah, I got it the first time around.

For the sake of pregnant women out there, when in doubt, go ahead and offer me a seat on a crowded subway, but otherwise, use the guideline: Never ask this question. Period. Contain your projected enthusiasm. Trust me, if she's pregnant and showing, she'll be talking about it without your asking.