I'm not Buddha, please don't rub my belly

It’s become like clockwork. Every couple of weeks or so, I indulge myself in a manicure and pedicure (why I never thought of doing this years ago, I have no clue). The nail salon is run by a few Vietnamese ladies that I’ve gotten to know over the last couple of years. They were ecstatic when they found out I was pregnant. And ever since then, the moment I sit down, one or two or three of the girls will inevitably come over and rub my belly and give ecstatic comments in broken English. It’s very sweet, really.

Our next door neighbor is also thrilled at the idea of us having a baby. Now in her early 40’s, she never had a child, and the idea of being a wall away from one has given her the idea of living vicariously through us. She has rubbed my belly a handful of times in passing, while overflowing with excitement and anxiousness to babysit. The idea of quick baby watching a few feet away actually sounds pretty convenient.

A great friend of ours is simply in awe of the whole pregnancy/baby phenomena and has become so emotionally in tuned to my experiences. Every so often in hugs of goodbye, he’ll add a rub of the belly with a fond farewell to the baby. Never fails to make me smile.

Now, these are people I know and trust, so I’m in no way wierded out by their physical act. I’ll admit, it was a little strange at first, especially in the early stages where there was really no baby bump (as much as I loathe that term, it seems appropriate for visual purposes here) to see or feel. Just my own fluffy tummy that I suppose could be mistaken for said baby bump. That’s where it became a little embarrassing on my part, but I chalk it up to naivety and ‘whatever they don’t know won’t hurt’ idea.

For months, I began to worry that I wasn’t really ‘showing’ the obvious baby ‘swishing’ inside. I was tempted to buy a shirt that said ‘baby’ with an arrow pointing down. Or another shirt I found amusing said, “I’m not fat, I’m pregnant…..and fat”. Because, for all I know, strangers simply viewed me as another fluffy girl. A girl at work didn’t even know that I was pregnant. Guess rumors don’t fly as much around here as I expected. Really….I AM pregnant people.

Now that I’m in my sixth month, I can finally sport the ‘baby belly’. And with that, I realized I couldn’t squeeze into my regular clothes any longer. I was stubborn, and was attempting to hold out on new clothes for as long as possible. Well, I finally caved in and bought maternity wear: stretchy pants with wide belly bands and flowy blousy shirts. It was quite a change in look for the girl who lived in jeans and t-shirts her entire life. I finally felt, and I hate to say it, girly. I wonder what people think when they see me in pink patterned shirts waddling around.

But, sporting this new 'do' brings on the ‘Touchers’. I haven’t had the luxury…yet…of having a complete stranger come up to me, cooing as they rub my belly. But, I’m sure that’ll come soon enough. What I wonder is why complete strangers feel they have the right to touch a pregnant lady. I may need to get a shirt that says, ‘No touchy!’

From what I know, most woman do not like to be poked and prodded by a doctor, let alone some random person off the street. I’m assuming it’s a need for connection to the miraculous wonder that’s happening within. I mean, for a pregnant woman, she feels the baby move all the time and immediately has that physical connection. A symbiotic relationship can transcend any relationship. But, for these ‘outsiders’, they don’t know or haven’t experienced that feeling and by merely placing a hand on the belly somehow connects them physically to that baby inches away.

I guess.

Maybe I’m over analyzing it. Maybe it’s like Buddha, and they rub my belly for good luck.

All I can say is, if you’re going to rub my belly for good luck and prosperity, then you better bring me offerings of money and or snacks.