I Have Decided to Become a Hermit

by Julie Coulter Bellon

I should be in Salt Lake today, schmoozing and cruising with my other author friends. But I’m not. I’m home, sitting in my pajamas, in front of the computer.

I have decided to become a hermit.

(And, as an aside, a hermit is different than a hobo, since I just learned yesterday that girls can’t be hobos. I was listening to my son and his friend talk about hobos and the friend said, “Girls can’t be hobos.” And my son chimed in, “Yeah, they don’t like to be dirty so they’d just go get a job.”)

Anyway, back to my reasons for becoming a hermit. I know some of you are saying it can’t be done. I’m a mother of six children, about to have another baby, and I’m an author. People with those kinds of responsibilities can’t be a hermit. But I want to be one. Do you know why?

Because whenever I step out of my house, I hear phrases like this (from well-meaning people I’m sure):

You look like you’re about to POP!

You are HUGE! Are you sure you’re not having twins?

When are you due? Looks like any day now.

If you drink a lot of water, that takes the swelling right down.

Oh, dear, how are you feeling?

And two of my personal favorites, given to me by strange men while I was out school clothes shopping with my younger children: 1) “Wow, it sucks to be as pregnant as you in the summer,” and 2) “How’s the baking going?”

Now do you see why I want to enter hermit-hood? When you hear those things day after day after day, it starts to give you a complex!

I wish there were some sort of guide for people who don’t know what to say to expectant mothers. A book of positive sayings. Maybe we could call it: “Happy Things to Say When You Can’t Think of Anything,” or "The Politely Correct Way to Compliment Pregnant People.” Wouldn’t that be helpful? We could include words like, “healthy,” “beautiful,” and perhaps the old standby, “glowing.” We could include phrases like, “I bet you’re getting excited for your baby’s arrival,” or “What a wonderful thing it is to bring children into the world.”

If that doesn’t work, perhaps we could just have a book of “Things Not to Say to Expectant Mothers.” And we could include words like, “Huge, Pop, Wow, Large, Weight, and Swelling,” and definitely warn against phrases that may at first seem complimentary, but to an expectant mother may not be. For example, “Is that a basketball under your shirt?” or “Wow. That’s some serious gas bloating. You should try Beano,” or “If your back side stuck out as much as your front side, you could be a mini-teeter totter.”

Of course those books aren’t available to my knowledge, so my only option seems to be becoming a hermit until the baby arrives. Or wearing earplugs when I’m out and about and just smiling whenever anyone speaks to me.

If that doesn’t work, I guess I can always take a closer look at that hobo thing . . .