In high school and college, when men leered at me from truck windows, construction sites, and from behind lawnmowers (sorry, as classist as this sounds, it’s where these men generally operate) I was horrified. Stop objectifying my body! Stop looking at my boobs! Oh, but I was an indignant young thing, an autonomous, anti-patriarchy, feminizi woman goddess who screeched and screamed about such injustices while I jogged about the world. 

Twenty pounds heavier than usual, more than halfway through this pregnancy, huffing and chugging around the neighborhood at a “brisk” walking pace, these leers are heavenly.

Horrah for the garbage collectors checking me out from their high perches.

Here’s a shout out to the chimney masons smiling at me from their scaffolding.

Thank you, landscaper on lunch break, giving me a cheery hello. 

God bless ‘em all. 

(Yes. Shaddup. I know that at this point I am more of a rounded pregnant creature rather than a twiggly-everywhere but the boobs and belly pregnant creature AND that it’s mostly curiosity at the sight of someone moving about outside of a car PLUS the current size of my chest. But can I just pretend? )

 

 

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