And the judgment continues...

Today at the dentist, the hygenist looked at my chart. "Oh, you're expecting! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you," I muttered with her hands in my mouth.

"Your first?" she asked, and I nodded. "Big surprise," I chuckled weakly.

After a minute of silence, she asked, "So, have you been to this office before?"

"No," I asked.

"Oh. What about your husband? Has he been here before?" Clearly she didn't see a ring, and was baiting me.

I didn't have my emergency fake wedding ring with me, and besides, I wrote clearly on my chart that I am SINGLE.

When I said, no, I have no husband, I saw the disappointment and the unmistakable "you're-a-bain-on-society" look in her eyes.

"Ooooohhhh," she said sadly, as if I had just told her my dog was getting neutered at the same time she was x-raying my teeth. She looked into my mouth down her nose while flossing me. And for the rest of the appointment, I tested out various subjects on her until I hit the jackpot: Michael Jackson. She went off on Michael Jackson and left the topic of me, the single, unwed mother on cheap insurance alone... until the dentist came in.

"So, you're expecting! Congratulations! How far along are you?"

"Five months," I admitted.

"You look tiny. Has your husband gained weight?" the dentist asked while snapping on his gloves, and before I could answer, the hygenist was breathlessly stage-whispering, "She has no husband." And then she gave him that same knowing look down her nose, her face covered by her mask, and I wanted to suck out her judgmental eyes with that suctioning tubey thing that was in my mouth.

Thank you. Really, thank you. As if I didn't understand that--shock!--it's not ideal or necessarily traditional to have the baby before the carrying over the threshold. As if having a baby isn't stressful enough without that whole single and unwed thing added onto it. I had no idea!

And thus began a crappy day, which seemed to get more and more lovely little cherries added on top: a hijacked car, postponed errands because of the hijacked car, idiots running the Wal-Mart Vision Center, four hours of beef ribs cooking in my house and permeating every room with their horrible stench, and a sciatic nerve pain shooting down my back that makes me look forward to childbirth.

This is my blog. I'm allowed to bitch on my blog. But, seriously, am I being sensitive? Is this how I should be treated by a strange hygenist? Should I just write "sinner" on my forehead in blood and let everyone take their stabs at me?

I'm sick of people forgetting how easy it is to slip up. I'm sick of people forgetting how easy it is to get pregnant.

How about some support? From one woman to another? From one mother to a new, terrified, trembling mother? From one imperfect human who makes mistakes to another? Why is the heartfelt congratulations and sincere joy at the belly swelling full of life contingent on my marital status? No ring? Oh, it's a tragedy.

I'm just flabbergasted. I had no idea there were so many perfect people out there--living in my city, people who I went to high school with, people who I see weekly, people cleaning my teeth...

Congratulations, all you perfect people. I'm so happy for you, really. I'll be thinking of you when I'm swimming in a burning sea in hell.

Bill Maher will be there, so I'm kinda looking forward to it.