Dear people staring at my belly disdainfully on the shuttle,

Next time, make eye contact as I struggle to stand while you enjoy that seat right in front of me. It's not at all hard to balance with a uterus the size of a soccer ball on a shuttle packed full of people. I'm sure the kid will be just fine if I do fall next time some idiot jumps in front of the bus and the driver stops short. 


Sincerely, 
The Pregnant Bitch

The area that I work in is nice enough to offer free shuttles to and from nearby trains.  They aren't nice enough to check IDs to keep non-employees off.  They're also not nice enough to send enough that they don't end up so packed that sitting on someone's lap doesn't just look tempting but almost unavoidable.  This particular evening, I'm 30 weeks pregnant, look like a whale, and I get stuck standing.  Directly in front of me are 2 women avoiding looking at me as they fiddle with their phones and purses.  Directly to my left is a young, able-bodied male looking at his crotch, I assume expecting something amazing to happen but most likely just trying to pretend he doesn't notice the massively pregnant woman in front of him.  I reach up and hold onto the bar with both hands for dear life as the bus takes off.


Now, here I have to admit, I can't remember whether I reapplied deodorant that morning (since I shower at night... and my brain is fried... sue me).  So, I assume I smell like a gym sock, I'm flailing around as the bus careens through Boston streets (seriously, go look at a map... they're ridiculous), and did I mention I've worked all day so I'm tired and cranky to boot.  The driver then decides that his erratic driving isn't dangerous enough and stops short at a crosswalk as two girls walk across... because, you know, a crosswalk would never have people in it.  At this point I nearly tackle the woman standing to my right, correct myself, and notice all 4 people enjoying their seats within 6 inches of my unborn son are staring at my belly... with looks of contempt.  Like they're angry that I make them feel like jerks for not offering a seat.  Well, at least I like to think that they feel SOMETHING.  After two more short stops, a few more death turns, and quite a few more looks at the belly, we pull up to the train station at which point I exit the bus in a rushed panic only to find the escalator out of order... FML.  Commuting sucks.