Wardrobe malfunction

I had the unfortunate experience of flashing my baby belly to an entire plane last week as I was flying back into Little Rock.

It’s gotten hard for me to sit still for longer than 30 minutes at a time, so after the takeoff, I stood up to go the bathroom. As I was making my way back to my seat, I saw that the flight attendant was serving drinks, so I patiently waited, reaching up for the overhead area to steady myself. I was perfectly content; I was sick of sitting, and it felt good to stretch out my back. I saw a few people look up at me, break into a smirk, and just as quickly look down. “Assholes…it’s as if you’ve never seen a pregnant lady before”, I think. And then I felt a bit of a draft on my mid-section. I glanced down and to my horror, I saw that my shirt had decided to creep its way up, and the belly band on my maternity pants decided to roll down toward the bottom of my belly. Fully exposed was my preggo mound—I could’ve charged people for a lucky rub of my big, Buddha belly.

My face burning, I quickly pulled my shirt down, and did my walk of shame down the aisle to my seat. The guy next to me looked up, smiled, and said brightly: “So, you’re having a boy or a girl?”