People, how many times do we need to go over this?

I look cute. Stylish even. In my cuffed up skinny jeans & blousy white top with strappy black platforms.

On the PATH train, minding my own business, engrossed in The Hunger Games.

The man sitting, facing me: Excuse me. Would you like my seat? Do you need to sit down?

Me, smiling, thinking he’s so polite: No, that’s okay. I’m just fine. But thanks.

It’s not every day a man on the train sees you’re really engrossed in your book and thinks you might be more comfortable sitting. Such a pleasant surprise!

But, why me? I mean, I know I look cute today, but offering me a seat just because I’m reading? I notice the woman standing next to me is reading, too. As are several other women without seats.

Then I notice the man is staring. At my stomach. In my blousy top.

I think of several things to say to him.They fall in a very limited range along the spectrum from “Not pregnant, just fat” to “fuck you.”

The train doors open and people spill in. I’m cramped, crowded, my personal space invaded.

“You know what?” I say to the man. “My feet ARE bothering me a little bit. I think I’ll take you up on your offer. Thanks.”

I settle my ass, not pregnant, just fat, into my seat.