An old man hit on me in the gas station this morning.
He was harmless, had hair the color of white lightening, a bulging pot belly, and a huge grin which spread right into his ruddy red cheeks. He was pushing 70 and he had a side-kick with him, another elderly man not quite as advanced in years.
"I like your dress, " said the old man with the grey hair.
"Thank you," I responded. I had just dropped my supplies onto the gas station counter to pay and he was standing right behind me.
"I mean, it's really pretty. Very nice," he said again. I could feel his eyes boring into my skin. The intense stares made me feel uncomfortable and I was not flattered by his words of "affirmation," so I put my hand on my hip and turned around to face him.
"You mean you think fat pregnant lady dresses are pretty?" I asked sarcastically, my eyebrows raised in suspicion. My belly swelled between the two of us.
"No, I thought what was in the dress was pretty," he responded with a wink.
"Huh," I scoughed, rolled my eyes, and turned back to the cashier to finish my business.
He mumbled something about how he would never have known I was pregnant had I not mentioned it and he wondered if I was having a girl or a boy. He was sheepish.
"A boy," I said without turning around, and handed the cashier money my money.
The old man started pontificating about how boys are so much easier than girls and wasn't I lucky to be having a boy and on and on and on, when I interrupted him, grabbed my keys and snacks to leave, and said...
"You boys have a nice day, OK?"
And out I went to my coveted 15 passenger ride wearing my fat lady's maxi dress...and I'll go ahead and admit it--I sported a heavy bounce in my pregnant step.
Watch out, John Duggan, because I still got it, even if it's only for the 60 and older crowd.
John took this "flattering" photo of me last week. Colleen Duggan: turning the heads of old men everywhere.