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Jul. 8th, 2016 01:41 pmDemelza deeply dislikes being pregnant.
With just under two months left, if the doctor's predictions are accurate, she feels as if she's gotten as large as she possibly can, and she knows all at once that isn't the case at all. There will be more weight added to her frame in the coming weeks, she'll grow rounder still, more uncomfortable, and until their child is born, there isn't the slightest thing she can do about it.
But she dislikes it all the same. She dislikes it even more when those around her are rude regarding her state, though at least in such a case she can turn her anger outward.
Shopping in the grocery stores has become unbearable for her with the lack of space and the cool, strange smelling air pumping from the metal holes in the ceiling, so she's taken to enjoying what are called farmer's markets. They remind her a little of shopping at home and the open space gives her more freedom to move her cumbersome frame around without worrying she may be getting in someone's way, though apparently she's still too wide for the likes of some.
"Jesus, could you waddle a little faster," someone mutters from behind her and Demelza turns with a frown, catching sight of a man not much taller than she is. Even after all these years, in situations such as these, it's her instinct to size the other person up and see whether she might best them in a physical confrontation. In this case she's quite confident she can.
"I'm that sorry," she answers in a voice that makes it clear she's anything but. "I'm with child, you see, and-"
"Like I care if you made the dumb mistake of getting knocked up," the guy snaps in response. "Get out of my way before I knock you down."
That, as far as Demelza is concerned, is a threat toward her baby, and she feels a cold curtain of rage descend over her. Planting her feet in the dirt, she shifts her basket from her right hand to her left, freeing her dominant hand to curl into a tight fist at her side.
"Just you try it," she says, her voice low with anger. Demelza is willing to fight right in this farmer's market, seven months pregnant or not. "I'm certain you'll regret it."
With just under two months left, if the doctor's predictions are accurate, she feels as if she's gotten as large as she possibly can, and she knows all at once that isn't the case at all. There will be more weight added to her frame in the coming weeks, she'll grow rounder still, more uncomfortable, and until their child is born, there isn't the slightest thing she can do about it.
But she dislikes it all the same. She dislikes it even more when those around her are rude regarding her state, though at least in such a case she can turn her anger outward.
Shopping in the grocery stores has become unbearable for her with the lack of space and the cool, strange smelling air pumping from the metal holes in the ceiling, so she's taken to enjoying what are called farmer's markets. They remind her a little of shopping at home and the open space gives her more freedom to move her cumbersome frame around without worrying she may be getting in someone's way, though apparently she's still too wide for the likes of some.
"Jesus, could you waddle a little faster," someone mutters from behind her and Demelza turns with a frown, catching sight of a man not much taller than she is. Even after all these years, in situations such as these, it's her instinct to size the other person up and see whether she might best them in a physical confrontation. In this case she's quite confident she can.
"I'm that sorry," she answers in a voice that makes it clear she's anything but. "I'm with child, you see, and-"
"Like I care if you made the dumb mistake of getting knocked up," the guy snaps in response. "Get out of my way before I knock you down."
That, as far as Demelza is concerned, is a threat toward her baby, and she feels a cold curtain of rage descend over her. Planting her feet in the dirt, she shifts her basket from her right hand to her left, freeing her dominant hand to curl into a tight fist at her side.
"Just you try it," she says, her voice low with anger. Demelza is willing to fight right in this farmer's market, seven months pregnant or not. "I'm certain you'll regret it."
