Last night we attended the annual Christmas party for Hubby’s workplace (I used to work there too). We don’t get invited to many parties and this one is usually really fun so I was excited to get out. People seem to really let loose at this party and usually I am right there with them, dancing like a fool, spilling drinks on people, and yakking it up with people I haven’t seen in a while.
<Insert reminder that I am 30 weeks pregnant>
It was still a good time but last night it became very clear to me how much of a social lubrication alcohol is for me. This was certainly a different experience than it has been in past years.
See, watching drunk people is all fine and good. We laughed at dance styles, raised our eyebrows at the antics of the reeeally drunk, and commented on women bouncing up and down in dresses that were either way too short or way too low, threatening to reveal bits of themselves in Janet style. Yes, we had some good laughs at other people’s expenses (oh come on… you do it too).
Yes, watching drunkenness seems to be fine; it’s when the drunkenness comes to your table to chat you up that you really notice the difference between being lubed up (socially, I mean) and not. Being 30 weeks pregnant is a magnet on the best of days but when you add copious amounts of alcohol and, in some cases, other stimulants, the pregnant belly seems to be a beacon that calls to the drunk like bad TV calls to Rosie O’Donnell.
Numerous people touched my belly (I’ve found that I can be a little flexible with this and make exceptions for some but I’m talking about people that I barely know). I was spit on by people leaning in close to talk to me over the blaring music. When I wasn’t being spit on, hot little puffs of air travelled from people’s mouths and landed on my cheek with what seemed like a thud. I was hugged by my husband’s boss just after he spit on me and just before he awkwardly offered me a job. I even had someone cup my chin with their hand and squeeze my cheeks. Yes, I’m serious… could I make that shit up?
Anyway, I do realize that these things happen every year and that I am just lubed up enough to not notice them. And overall it was a fine time because I enjoy catching up with people. But I do find myself already looking forward to next year’s party when I will once again be self-lubed and a little more forgiving of (or oblivious to) the spitty-talking, hugging, dance-on-the-table masses.
But for now, hand me that glass of ice water, would you?























