Because I have a singleton baby and not twins or triplets or anything hideous like that, I don't get a huge number of stupid questions from people, unlike these poor folks. And for the most part, I don't mind at all when people ask about the Princess. I'm fully aware that she's bald, and I understand that it's hard to tell if she's a girl. And really, who cares? If she is dressed in blue, green, yellow, or even some pink with other colors mixed in, I couldn't care less about the nineteen people a day who will ask me, "Is he a boy?"
But if my daughter is dressed entirely in pink, from head to foot, including a pink bow glued to her bald-assed head, and you still ask me, "Is he a boy?" I'm going to give you the look I reserve for people who blast their car stereos and those who take 47 items into the express lane at the grocery store.
And then there was the teenage girl who waited on me at the shoe store last week. All cracking gum and cheap lipstick, she looked at me and my all-pink-clad baby and said:
"What is it?"
Because I am basically a polite person, I did not answer:
--"A golf cart!"
--"A lifelike toy I ordered off E-Bay--Doesn't her skin look touchably soft?"
Instead I just smiled, said "She's a girl," and mentally added, "You imbecile." Then I didn't tell her when she under-charged me by $10.