Dear Very Pregnant Very Drunk Woman at the Bar Last Friday,
What in the hell were you thinking? Tits up to your chin filled with milk (and now Cider and Red Headed Sluts), all dolled up and dressed up with your hair done and blingy earrings on ready for a Friday night out. I looked over, unable avert my eyes from the train wreck that you are, and saw you using your pregnant belly to hold up your can of Strongbow.
I wondered silently—perhaps I had a brain tumor? Yes, a brain tumor that was pressing on whatever part of the brain makes you imagine a woman about to shoot a baby from betwixt her thighs intoxicated. Wasn’t there an episode of House where that happened?
The tumor hypothesis was spoiled when the people I was with let their jaws drop and eyebrows raise above protruding eyes at your drunk ass slurring loudly, ‘SHOTS!’ The looks of sheer confusion turned more drastic when you declared, ‘I NEED A FUCKING CIGARETTE!
We didn’t stay long after having to experience the likes of you. Mom-ski to be, getting you and your unborn baby a good old-fashioned nicotine-alcohol one-two punch of a buzz on killed my evening. I hope you gave birth later that night, wasted, and that child (if it isn’t entirely pickled or dead) was taken away from you.
You are a woman in a country where you have options—if you can’t give up the sauce, you should probably seriously consider exercising your right to not have a kid. Politics aside, I just am more concerned about the practicality of the situation that you put yourself in. How would you discern between your water breaking, and you reaching the point of intoxication where you no longer have control of your bladder?
Was that you a few weeks ago driving down I-35W in a station wagon with whiskey plates and a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window? I would put money down that it was either you or the guy who was smart enough to knock you up. For a while I had hoped that you had maybe just given birth and were celebrating, or just had a very pregnant-looking beer belly. That was shot to hell when I overheard you slurring something about your due-date.
That was when it became clear that it was time to leave.What was I most disturbed by? I am not sure if it was your sorry alcohol/milk-filled-big-
I realized then that perhaps I missed the memo, and this is how some people do the whole ‘baby shower’ thing. I guess my sorry excuse for an imagination never realized that one interpretation of ‘baby shower’ could be ‘shower baby with booze’. If that is your interpretation maybe you could have the ‘SBWB’ party at a friends place instead of out in public where you run the risk of ruining my night. Also, (I am just throwing this out there) you might want to reconsider the whole reproducing thing in the first place.
Yours truly,
Katie J. Muggli