St. Patty's

I ripped the tags off my Easter outfit so that I would have a green shirt to wear. Gavin hated my low-heeled shoes, insisting I wear my clunky brown loafers instead. I humored him, tucking the pumps into my bag and bringing them anyway.

Decked out in kilts and "oboings" (spelled phonetically because I don't know how to spell the Gaelic word), Mike and my mom practiced with the rest of the RSCDS, while I walked around the shops with Gavin. We bought gourmet malt balls and fudge at the fancy chocolate shop, and Gavin dragged me into a toy store to look at Thomas the Tank Engine merchandise.

We sat in the audience as the dancers took the stage. I knew vaguely that Mike was expecting a co-worker to show up; a red-head he has an obvious crush on. I didn't think twice about it until I noticed her. She didn't look like the one picture I had seen, standing without makeup in her work uniform, but here she was; about 6 feet tall and looking like she stepped off the cover of a magazine. I suddenly felt very short and frumpy, sitting with poorly-dyed hair and a chocolate-smeared toddler on my lap.

After the performance, my mom and I followed Gavin back into the toy store to buy a set of Thomas colorforms while Mike talked his girlfriend into joining the dance group. Right in front of me. We met the rest of the group over at Gordon Biersch for a drink and some good conversation. Gavin colored his menu, only crying when Mike tried to take him off my lap to give me a break. I really tried to shelf my depression and have a little fun, but for the most part I was ignored and stuck with Gavin for company. Not that he isn't good company - we had a nice time looking at the aquariums and art in the Wyland gallery - but I guess I've been pretty damn lonely for some time now. I watched a happy couple with a tiny newborn baby, thinking hard. The baby was pretty irresistible, but having another would mean three more years of nursing and two kids to chase while everyone ignores me. And - says a dark little voice in my mind - there I would be: pregnant, fat, and tired while Mike goes to work with his leggy redhead.

I hate this feeling.