A mildly retarded woman who comes into the library pretty often just asked me if I was pregnant. Actually, the exchange was more like:
Patron: Are you going to have a baby?
Me: No.
Patron: Because it really looks like you are! I love babies.
Me: I love babies too, but I am not having one.
End scene.
So, I guess I look chubby today? Unclear. Also, I am taking it as a sign that my extra skin that bulges over my waistband is getting to be more than just annoying; it is turning into a baby decoy.