Recently I was at a party and whilst sitting down resting my weary feet from pulling a few too many MJ moves, the black version of Betty Suarez came over, knelt at my feet, leaned in and asked, “So…how long have you got left to go?” I stared at her in confusion. Until those nine little words had been uttered, we’d never spoken before and I’d been thinking that although I still have a little a bit of tummy left (I have had a c-section you know! Yeah, yeah, that ‘ole chestnut I hear you all say), I was looking pretty good. Unable to take a hint from my confusion, she added, just in case I had any doubt that she was implying that I was fat, “You know…your bump…”.

I fastened her with a stare I normally reserve for men that I want to give the shrivelling nuts feeling to. “I’m not pregnant….I’ve already had my baby…seven months ago….” As I hotfooted it to my local Woolworths the following morning to pick up Davina’s latest workout video, I cursed Betty Suarez and all of the insensitive people out there. Why is it that when we become mothers, people take this as a cue to be tactless, insensitive, and be afflicted with verbal diarrhoea? And why the hell do I let these people bother me?

OK, that’s a lie. She bothered me enough to cause me to part cash for the DVD, which I have used once but I’ve got a good excuse. Bear with me. I had some weird nipplelitis thing (yeah I made up the term but the pain was real) from breastfeeding (yes I know I had been planning to give up the last feed) and the very act of doing anything that my right boob perceived as work had me clutching myself in agony. I have now recovered and I plan to get out the DVD later…

Anyway, I digress. I am human and I challenge anyone with a few extra pounds on them not to feel a bit insulted at being asked if their pregnant. I am fortunate that much as I like bitching about these type of incidents, I’m not bothered enough to cut back on éclair buying at Waitrose and it wouldn’t occur to me go on a diet (unless you count the seafood one – I see food and I eat it). However, it is careless comments like this that have women postnatal or not, struggling with their body image. We can’t all have a flat stomach after two weeks like Nicole Richie. I mean seriously, what has she got? Dysentery?

I am a size 8 with a bit of a tummy. There I said it.

It annoys me when I see my tummy that looks a bit like Hooch’s face (that dog in the Tom Hanks film) but I keep vowing to do something about it (this morning I’ve been contemplating joining the gym across the street), but I have been too busy getting on with life.

When will people learn to shut up? Sometimes it feels like open season has been declared on mothers as people comment on your breastfeeding skills, your general parenting, whether you’re baby is sleeping through the night, and pretty much anything and everything. I am co-parenting with the universe and I seem to have enrolled in a Weight Watchers group where the general public do your ‘weigh in’ and let you know how far gone you are.

At the same party I watched open mouthed as someone did a round of introductions and introduced people by their marital status. “This is such and such and they’re married and have two children…This is such and such and they’re married with one child…and this is…” and she paused at me, “this is…this is…Natalie…’the boyf’s’ fiancé (I’m not engaged before anyone gets excited). They have a baby but they’re not married” and then I listened incredulously as she switched to her native language and explained how I’d basically got knocked up without being married!

People are hung up on status and Other People’s Business. I think people say a lot of this sh*te because it’s a conversational filler (a poor one) and it detracts from their own lives. If only people would engage their brains before they speak or put themselves in other people’s shoes, life could get a bit easier.

I could have said to Betty Suarez “So…are you doing you’re A-Levels?” if I wanted to make assumptions based on braces, and I could have insulted Miss Hung Up On Marital Status by saying “This is such and such they’re married, this is such and such…they’re shagging…this is such and such, they’re a blissfully happy couple, and this is…well this is Miss Hung Up On Marital Status and she’s single”. The point is that I don’t.

I know that I have to accept that with motherhood comes tactless, insensitive, verbal diarrhoea by the bucketload, but sometimes, offenders are going to find themselves on the sharp end of my tongue. And that won’t be because they’re bothering me that much but because they might think twice before they behave that way with someone else who might not have purchased the latest hide of rhino…