(no subject)
Ahh, it's this time of the year again. This may be a statement rather obscure in meaning for those of you who don't live in Saint John, which is to say, all of you. But to those who do, though you certainly don't, you'll certainly know what I'm talking about. Though certainly nobody knows what I'm talking about, because nobody lives here. But let's not dwell on that any further. I hope that one day I can quell my terrible habit of digressing when I haven't even finished making one point yet. Anyway, I'm not entirely sure that my wandering off topic has drawn out your curiosity regarding my first statement, but I'll continue anyway, because this is my journal, and I sure as hell can write whatever the fuck I want. Ahem. All this is to say, the tourists have arrived.
Now, I've never had a problem with tourists before today, but now I can see why they're regarded as such... bad people. That is, horrible, loud, screeching/laughing, picture-taking, despicable bastards from hell. I went uptown today only to discover that the place was overcrowded by people, well, sad enough to come here. It was rather alarming to see so many people where there usually is none, and, to be truthful, it irritated the piss out of me for a slight moment. I don't know what there is that disturbs me about tourists. Maybe it's fear that eventually, I'll become one of them: large, unruly, T-shirted, tourist-like in general. But I found myself slowly forgiving them - I certainly have the authority to do so - as I walked through the City Market, from which wafted the scent of fresh bread, ripe fruit, and obscene quantities of meat not covered by any cling wrap. By the time I found myself nearing the library, to which I was ultimately headed, I forgot about them altogether. That is, until I saw a pregnant woman.
Maybe pregnant women like cruising. Maybe that's why so many of them are here. I spotted three today. It had a strangely disturbing effect on me, as I discovered something I have not before: I am afraid of pregnant women. When I approached the first one, I caught myself staring intently at her belly. It was a bulbous protuberance that looked slightly unnatural, as if she had swallowed a large yoga ball. She wore a T-shirt obviously not made for pregnancy, as it was prostitutishly tight, revealing her midriff as the bottom of her shirt slowly and inconspicuously climbed up her round belly towards her navel while she walked. There was something about her belly that reminded me of a over-sized water balloon, one that you purposely overfill so that it would most definitely burst when you throw it at your target. It wobbled, covered in pink stretch-marks and downed with light brow hair. She scratched it, and pulled down her shirt for what I guessed to be the thousandth time today, while laughing and talking to her companions as if she wasn't pregnant.
I gulped, and, in short, I was afraid.
I shivered, feeling my heart beat slightly quickening, distributing epinephrine throughout my body, telling me to get the fuck out of there. I resisted, and calmly walked past her, another shiver running down my spine as I did so. I walked into the library, grabbed Yes Minister and sat down on one of the little blue couches that smell faintly of sweat, my bottom collapsing farther into the old broken chair than it was supposed to. I was alright.
The two other pregnant women that I saw later today were much more decent, wearing baggier shirts, and not being that far in their respective terms. But I still couldn't help picturing what I had seen earlier, and I felt highly uncomfortable, as if I was witnessing the progress of some devastating disease, and fearing that it was contagious. Very unpleasant.
I have an irrational fear/hatred of pregnancy in humans. Pregnancy-phobic. Oh God.
Now, I've never had a problem with tourists before today, but now I can see why they're regarded as such... bad people. That is, horrible, loud, screeching/laughing, picture-taking, despicable bastards from hell. I went uptown today only to discover that the place was overcrowded by people, well, sad enough to come here. It was rather alarming to see so many people where there usually is none, and, to be truthful, it irritated the piss out of me for a slight moment. I don't know what there is that disturbs me about tourists. Maybe it's fear that eventually, I'll become one of them: large, unruly, T-shirted, tourist-like in general. But I found myself slowly forgiving them - I certainly have the authority to do so - as I walked through the City Market, from which wafted the scent of fresh bread, ripe fruit, and obscene quantities of meat not covered by any cling wrap. By the time I found myself nearing the library, to which I was ultimately headed, I forgot about them altogether. That is, until I saw a pregnant woman.
Maybe pregnant women like cruising. Maybe that's why so many of them are here. I spotted three today. It had a strangely disturbing effect on me, as I discovered something I have not before: I am afraid of pregnant women. When I approached the first one, I caught myself staring intently at her belly. It was a bulbous protuberance that looked slightly unnatural, as if she had swallowed a large yoga ball. She wore a T-shirt obviously not made for pregnancy, as it was prostitutishly tight, revealing her midriff as the bottom of her shirt slowly and inconspicuously climbed up her round belly towards her navel while she walked. There was something about her belly that reminded me of a over-sized water balloon, one that you purposely overfill so that it would most definitely burst when you throw it at your target. It wobbled, covered in pink stretch-marks and downed with light brow hair. She scratched it, and pulled down her shirt for what I guessed to be the thousandth time today, while laughing and talking to her companions as if she wasn't pregnant.
I gulped, and, in short, I was afraid.
I shivered, feeling my heart beat slightly quickening, distributing epinephrine throughout my body, telling me to get the fuck out of there. I resisted, and calmly walked past her, another shiver running down my spine as I did so. I walked into the library, grabbed Yes Minister and sat down on one of the little blue couches that smell faintly of sweat, my bottom collapsing farther into the old broken chair than it was supposed to. I was alright.
The two other pregnant women that I saw later today were much more decent, wearing baggier shirts, and not being that far in their respective terms. But I still couldn't help picturing what I had seen earlier, and I felt highly uncomfortable, as if I was witnessing the progress of some devastating disease, and fearing that it was contagious. Very unpleasant.
I have an irrational fear/hatred of pregnancy in humans. Pregnancy-phobic. Oh God.