The midwife smiled at me.
"Kicking away", I smiled back.
And that is when I nearly punched her in the face.
I had forced my smile through clenched teeth when she had missed the definite article and referred to the baby as just 'baby' but referring to me the person to me myself with no-one else in the room really made me squirm.
I know, I know, I am being slightly unreasonable. The, otherwise lovely, midwife was just trying to be a bit more personable but seriously, I am not three! The baby is a he (did I tell you that?) or it or 'the baby', I am 'you'.
Also, please don't refer to me as preggo or preggers ('up the hilary' or 'knocked up' is fine though) and don't ask about my hubby (bleeeeeeurk).
And, just while we are at it, I eat vegetables, not veggies; I like chicken sandwiches, not sarnies; please don't get me a crimbo prezzie and spag bol makes me feel physically angry (but I love spaghetti bolagnaise and would be delighted if you made it for me).
And if you follow all that then, natch, it will be totes amaze :)
|Stern Puppy agrees with me. So there.|