“That was like taking a bullet”

There’s a scene in the first SATC movie, when the girls are on Carrie’s non-honeymoon, where the waiter refers to her as Mrs. Preston. Her reaction: “That was like taking a bullet.”

  

I always think of this whenever I get one of those side-swipey, out-of-the-blue zingers that bring all the pain to the surface.

  

My housekeeper was here on Monday, and she was admiring the holiday bouquet on my table. So I respond with more small talk, “Oh yeah, I’m really glad I got that to spruce up the place, since we decided to not get a tree this year. Decided to skip it since we don’t have...”

  

She finishes my sentence with “...kids.” As I finish it with it with “...any holiday parties hosted at our place.”

  

She continues with “People with kids put up Christmas trees.”

  

Not one, but two bullets right to the chest.

  

I don’t know what it looked like from her perspective, but I just stopped talking, turned around, walked to my bedroom and shut the door.

  

I was having a good upbeat day, had just finished working out, was motivated to tackle some home projects. But just like that, my heart sank and I was fighting tears for the next hour, feeling terrible about myself and our situation.

  

And I think on top of the sadness I felt ashamed. And called out somehow. I think because of who she is --- a relative stranger that has this bizarre access to our intimate life, that I felt so violated. She tends to be a bit gossipy and indiscreet to begin with, and cleans the homes of several of my coworkers, that I already cringe at what she must think about us and what (oh the horror) she might ever say to others. I run around like a maniac before every time she comes, putting away the prenatal vitamins, pee sticks, fertility yoga dvd, pregnancy/miscarriage/fertility books, insurance paperwork, and on and on.

  

She is not someone who matters to me, and it shouldn’t matter what she thinks. People are going to say stupid shit, and I should be used to it by now. I had half a mind to tell her to take a hike, but for now the luxury of having one less thing on my plate (e.g. cleaning toilets) outweighs the pain of having her here.

  

I finally pulled myself together, and left the house to meet my husband and some of my in-laws. We did a little shopping and went ice-skating at Wrigley Field. I actually enjoyed the frigid cold air, like shock therapy to my system. So for now, have healed from those bullet wounds, until the next inevitable surprise sniper shot.