Remember a few months ago how I was lauding Karma, calling her a "fairly nice gal" and all that hogwash?
Little did I know she was lying in wait, sitting there with her legs crossed, bouncing her Manolo up and down on her perfectly manicured toes, grinning like an idiot while I walked toward my next visit with her.
A number of years ago, while in the throes of my immature mid-20s, I came across a friend of a friend and excitedly asked her Oh my goodness! Congratulations! I didn't know you were pregnant. When are you due? She wasn't pregnant. Yeah. See, I had yet to learn the lesson of You don't ask a lady if she's pregnant, not even if she's in active labor and the head is crowning. If that's the case, then avert your gaze and calmly ask if she'd like a Motrin or a some Pepto for her tummy ache. And then begin talking about the weather.
Oh, I was mortified that day. The offended party tried to make me feel better, but I knew she would get in her car, drive home, and cuss me, cry, shake her head, shake her fist at the heavens, or all of the above. Me? I just wanted to climb into a hole because I couldn't believe I had said anything, that I had been so very mistaken, and that I had probably just destroyed the ego of someone I didn't even know.
Well, Karma has finally had her day on this one. As I excitedly walked into my old scuba shop last Thursday, arms loaded up with regulators and a BCD needing service before our Mexico trip, my good friend Jim exclaimed, Heather! It's so awesome to see you! It's been forever! Is that a baby bump I see?
And my first thought? Well, at least the wait is over. Karma's other shoe just dropped. Now to start that 500-sit-ups-a-day regimen.
I hope the heel broke on Her shoe. Bitch.