“Miss Todoroska, is there a baby in there?”
A girl in my Year One class asked as we lined up outside our classroom door. The words rang out in my head, like the vibrations of a string being plucked on a guitar. I looked at her with shock in my eyes, trying to figure out how to recover from the pang I felt in my stomach.
Obviously not pleased with how long it took me to answer, she asked again, but this time she took her finger and began pointing at my stomach. It was enough to get the attention of the majority of my class.
“Is there Miss? Is there?” she continued as I shuffled around trying to get the students into line to go to our weekly assembly.
“No, no there isn’t,” I replied sharply.
She took the hint and dropped the questioning. Yet as we proceeded to walk to the hall, I couldn’t get her words out of my head. I looked down at my stomach. Is it what I’m wearing? Is my stomach really poking out that much? Do I look fat?
All of the students and their teachers maneuvered themselves into the hall and I positioned my class behind my sister’s, who happened to work at the same school. As the students chirped away talking to each other, I got her attention.
“Do I look fat?” I signaled as I motioned to my stomach. She looked at me a little confused and signaled back, ‘talk later.’ After assembly I rushed myself to her classroom and began to fill her in on the incident that happened earlier. “Why would she ask me that? Do I look pregnant? Have I put on weight?” I asked away.