For want of anything else to do, we saw the New Year in at the pub downstairs from our apartment. It's a smokey meat market dive, but it had a DJ and a live covers band, so we thought it would be fun - and it was. But from the moment I walked in I was acutely aware that all the men in the place were staring at my bump. Really staring. They would stop dead in their tracks
and stare, whole tables of men turned to gawp. There didn't appear to be any malice in the stares, I don't think they were looks of disapproval (I certainly wasn't smoking or drinking) I don't know what was going through their minds really, but it was a bit unsettling. There was also a notable gender divide. No women were staring - they seemed to hardly notice - if they did notice, they smiled at me.
The staring became particularly intense when I was dancing - though I have a theory about that. I'm usually a pretty confident dancer, but my moves have been severely limited by my pint sized human cargo. A move that might normally incorporate a knee dip or a hip twist had to be urgently modified as I discovered my body no longer turns in that direction, or that a baby's head had got in the way. That, coupled with my shifting centre of balance meant I was dancing like an imbecile. In that instance i'm fair stare game.
All this dancing and merry making into the wee hours has not been without its penalties. After waiting up to see the New Year arrive in the UK, I finally got to bed at 5am. Today I am totally incapable of moving. I've had to stack pillows and cushions all around me on the sofa because any part of me that isn't propped up just collapses. I'm like a rag doll with the stuffing removed.
It was worth it though - I had a lovely New Year. I just hope i'm recovered in time for Scissor Sisters in two weeks - hurrah!
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