As most of you know, my strange illness has given me a belly that makes me look about seven months pregnant. After so many years I have been able to find the humour both in the queries and the responses I give to the queries. Sometimes I actually look forward to bizarre responses because they make such good stories. Belly-laugh Fridays is my chance to share these humorous tidbits with all of you. Enjoy.
For a while there was a restaurant in Chinatown in Toronto that I was visiting every week with the same group of people. We would see the same waiters every week and they became familiar with us.
One week, a waiter suddenly noticed my belly and began to make a big fuss over me. Before I knew it he was speaking babytalk (Cantonese babytalk mind you) to my belly. He started having a conversation with my non-existent unborn baby.
I frantically gestured “no” with my hands, but he was pretty absorbed in his conversation. One of the Cantonese-speaking members of my group finally intervened to tell him the truth of my belly. The look of shock and horror that appeared on his face would have been comical if the poor man had not felt so terrible.
I kept reassuring him that it was fine, but of course couldn’t use my usual words of reassurance. My friend calmed him down best she could, but I think he wasn’t entirely convinced that I wasn’t making the whole thing up.