And we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

...to bring you this update from the lowest, deepest depths of the rumor mill at my job.

Ok, ok, ok... so I know that I had promised a blog about disability pride as the next issue on my agenda, BUT I have a real treat for you today. One that you will not believe, because my own ears are still ringing in shock from the news.

PREFACE

I don't believe I've ever mentioned here that I work in an office where the staff is 90% female... and as stereotypical as I'm about to sound... just take my word for it when I say that the majority of females like to gossip. The ladies with whom I share my work are no exception to this general rule.

Knowing the affinity for gossip held by these ladies who lunch -- upon whom I bestow this title because the majority of their gossiping takes place between the hours of 12 pm and 2 pm at the long rectangular lunch table just outside my cubicle-- I have chosen to confide in only one person in the office. The person with whom I share my deepest thoughts and secrets, despite being female, does not lunch with the aforementioned ladies.

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So imagine my surprise today when my good friend comes to me and tells me she has heard a rumor comprised of the following information:

1. I am pregnant.

2. Baby Daddy is a guy who I met online and have mentioned in my blog before (see first entry). I'd only ever mentioned this person one time at work (in passing) and I have in all actuality never been in the same phsyical location with him in order to say hello, let alone conceive a child.*+

3. My parents would be upset, because this child would be of a mixed heritage.**

Once my friend had approached me with this rumor-- which she prefaced with an "I'm sure this isn't true, but..."-- we had a good laugh at the expense of the ladies who lunch, and remarked on the crazy soap opera that my life had apparently become in their hands.

I wondered what could possibly have prompted this person to spread such a rumor (I wasn't told who she is, but I am fairly certain I know). It reminds me of high school in a way. Back then, I was much more generous with the information I'd divulge about myself, because I was still under the impression that most people were genuine and good at heart, and would never tell untruths about me for no reason whatsoever.

I'm not saying that I was a perfect little girl; I wasn't. I was a normal teenager, and while I was a truthful person, an exaggeration or embellishment of events here or there had been known to cross my lips. This was mostly because I was looking for the same thing every other teenager in Podunkville, KY--and in Every City, Everystate-- was looking for. Acceptance.

In a town where there was little to do and even fewer places to go, the topics of conversation were usually sex and livestock, though they were not often discussed simultaneously. People from my past will tell you that I graduated high school with a litany of half-truths surrounding my relationship with the person I'd classify as my high school sweetheart. Some of them I knew about; some of them I didn't. It wasn't until I graduated high school that I learned from my mother a series of bizarre (untrue) rumors surrounding certain activities in a janitor's closet had actually gotten back to her.

In my adult years, I have learned to be a bit more choosy about the people to whom I open myself and truly let inside. My lack of a poker face and the frequency of my Facebook updates may make it seem as though I'm an open book, but the majority of my emotion bubbles below the surface, and can only be tapped by a select few of my closest confidants. I can count these people on one hand.

With that said, I laugh heartily in the face of this most recent crazy story, told by a person who doesn't know me-- a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.




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*And if I had been in the same physical location as this person and had the opportunity to conceive a child, it would not have happened, as I believe in (a) monogamy, (b) marriage before children, IF children are to be had, and (c) knowing the middle name of anyone who could potentially father my offspring.

** This would never be the case. The person who started this rumor does not know me and certainly does not know my parents. This, other than one rather crude comment made about me to my friend, which I am choosing not to include here, was the most disturbing part of the rumor to me.

+ To Baby Daddy--
A. If you're reading this, it seems you owe me some child support. Pay up.

B. Which of us is to be the first to contact CNN/FoxNews/MSNBC about the second immaculate conception? There is money to be made and perhaps a Lifetime Movie Network deal to be signed, possibly eliminating the need for the aforementioned child support payments.

C. What's your middle name?

D. Hope your girlfriend doesn't mind.

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