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The first time it happened I was in my early twenties, straphanging in a crowded New York City subway car on my way to work. I was wearing a slim-fitting T-shirt dress, one that for reasons that will soon become horrifyingly clear, I subsequently used to scrub out the litter box and then tossed. The seated woman I was standing in front of met my eyes and smiled. Then she stood up. I smiled back and stepped to the side so she could make her way to the door. She stood right next to me.
"Would you like to sit?" she asked kindly. "I remember how tired I was during my pregnancy. You look like you're into your second trimester; it gets easier."
If I had been pregnant, her act of generosity would probably have sent me into early labor right there on the F train.
But I wasn't. (Even so, I took the seat.)
Once in a while I'm still offered a seat on the train, thanks to a belly that seems to always enter a room a split second before the rest of me does.
The first time it happened I was in my early twenties, straphanging in a crowded New York City subway car on my way to work. I was wearing a slim-fitting T-shirt dress, one that for reasons that will soon become horrifyingly clear, I subsequently used to scrub out the litter box and then tossed. The seated woman I was standing in front of met my eyes and smiled. Then she stood up. I smiled back and stepped to the side so she could make her way to the door. She stood right next to me.
"Would you like to sit?" she asked kindly. "I remember how tired I was during my pregnancy. You look like you're into your second trimester; it gets easier."
If I had been pregnant, her act of generosity would probably have sent me into early labor right there on the F train.
But I wasn't. (Even so, I took the seat.)
Once in a while I'm still offered a seat on the train, thanks to a belly that seems to always enter a room a split second before the rest of me does.
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