Pregnant or Just Fat?

That was the question I was asking myself on the Tube last night as I rode home on the Jubilee line. By some miracle, I had snagged a seat and was enjoying a nice chat with my work colleague seated next to me when a woman came on board and stood right in front of us. Since she was standing, and I was sitting, I had no choice but to stare straight at her belly. Her big belly.

Although I noticed that she had a larger belly, I couldn't figure out whether she was pregnant or just carrying leftover holiday weight or something. Winter just ended, and I'm sure we're all still carrying a few extra pounds so I couldn't just assume that she was pregnant. I tried to discreetly scan her up and down for some indication one way or another, but she wasn't wearing one of those pregnancy badges that the Tube hands out to pregnant women.

I felt terribly rude sitting there and I would've offered her my seat immediately if I could just tell one way or another. Imagine if she wasn't pregnant, and I had offered her my seat? And it seems weird to ask a perfect stranger whether they're pregnant, especially if the answer is no.

All I knew was that I was getting off at the next stop, and I made a beeline for the exit before the train stopped so she could sit down in my seat just in case she was pregnant. After a discussion with my colleague today, we decided that the woman probably was pregnant judging from the more pissed off than the average Londoner face when no one offered her a seat. Oops.

Sunday Morning

Today is supposed to be absolutely lovely weather-wise, and I was chomping at the bit to get out of the flat. I had some errands to run at the grocery store and at Boots, but the shops weren't going to open for another half hour, so J and I took the long way there.

We stopped by Paddington Park, which is a park we discovered on our first day in our new 'hood when we were flat-hunting, and we've been neglecting it since Regent's Park is so close and impressive. Too bad for us since it's a lovely space to just sit and enjoy being outside.

We stumbled on a farmer's market right after we left the park, and we decided to pop in for a quick gander to see what was on display.

Of course we couldn't leave without buying a little something something, so we left with a loaf of raisin and walnut bread under one arm and a chicken pie under the other. Score!

Now that we're back at the flat, J is getting ready to take off to the office, and I'm settling in to work from home. It's too bad we can't enjoy the day together, but work is work. Better luck next weekend.

British Women and Their Tights

As a California girl, I have a deep-seated dread of all leg coverings i.e. stockings, tights, long socks. They don't really go with flip flops, my footwear of choice back home in California, and they can be real bitch to wash. Even when I was working as an associate at a law firm, I eschewed stockings and went bare-legged to the office everyday. No one blinked an eye, but it may be because it was the Orange County office of a Miami based firm.

Looks comfy, Is comfy

With London weather being what it is, I guess legwear is a necessity. I did as the natives do during the coldest months and wore stockings to the office, but I eventually gave it up about a month ago. The temperature was still in the single digits, and the Brits were deep in flaunting their tights collection, but I just couldn't take it any more. My legs need to breathe! One of my work colleagues noticed last week that I wasn't wearing any tights, and she literally gasped with shock when she realized that I was running around town with bare legs. To be honest, I've caught her checking my legs each morning to see if I'm still crazy, and yep, I'm still crazy. Except I think I should be considered normal again since temperatures have been hovering around 20 for the last few days.
 


















Nevertheless, the average British woman is still wearing her tights. To be clear, it's always tights. I've seen the rare woman wearing stockings, but most seem to favor its thicker and more durable cousin, tights. And they don't opt for the plain, neutral colors that I'm accustomed to, but they like to go all out. I've seen sparkly ones, lacy ones, zig-zaggy ones - anything you can think of, they are plastered on someone's legs.

I can't help but wonder, at what point do they finally stop wearing tights? I'm tempted to shake one of these random woman, tell them that it's 21 degrees (72F) and let them know the jig is up.

I Protest Against Protests

As an alum of UC Berkeley, I know it goes against the foundation of my education to say this, but I HATE PROTESTS. As selfish as it may be, I like to mosey about my life as undisturbed as possible, and the protests here in London have a way of making an impact on your every day life whether you care about the cause or not.

For instance, the Tube protests of yesteryear made sure that all commuters suffered along with the Tube workers by effectively shutting down the Tube system and forcing everyone to figure out another way to get to their destination in a city where hardly anyone owns a car. Just last week, over 50,000 people gathered in central London to protest against the cuts proposed by the government, and I could hear them from my bed in my cosy little flat a mile away.

And today, everyone on Canary Wharf has been put on the alert that more anti-cut protestors will be assembling in front of the only Tube station on the Wharf to conduct a "noisy" protest as they've been instructed "to bring something loud." They're meant to gather at the station right before rush hour and plan on making my already miserable commute worse. We've been assured that they are "unlikely to be violent," but those are not sweet words of reassurance to my ears. Especially when they're followed by the warning that we may be locked in our building for our own safety.

Now I have a quandry: Should I just brave the crowd of protestors and fight my way to the Tube? Do I try to avoid the crowd by tunneling underground to the Tube via the shopping mall? Or do I stay late at the office until the protestors go away?

An easier question to answer: Could Canary Wharf get any worse? No, probably not. Sigh.

Feels Like Spring

 After a solid week of double digit temperatures, I think it's safe to say that spring has finally arrived, and not a moment too soon! Although it may be tempting fate, I put away all of our heavy winter things, and I spent all day yesterday doing some heavy duty spring cleaning.

Now that the flat is nice and tidy, I rewarded myself with a nice walk through Regent's Park. If I had any doubts that spring had arrived, those doubts were put to rest when I saw the transformation that had taken place in the park just in the last week. Although the daffodils are starting to fade, the park's gardeners had replanted all of the flowers in the avenues, and the splash of color was beautiful.

The warmth of the sun on our backs made it warm enough for us to shrug off our jackets and continue our walk in just our short-sleeve shirts for the first time in months and months. It was glorious!

In fact, our walk felt so lovely that J and I decided to head back home to change into our running clothes, and we headed out again for a quick run through the park. We're both a bit out of shape after our recent stint of working long hours, but it still felt wonderful even though it took us a while to catch our breath. It looks like we just made it back to our flat in time since the lovely weather has transformed into a sky filled with threatening clouds hinting at rain. Typical.

Wasabi Fridays

Without fail, the law firm I currently work at serves fish and chips for lunch in the cafeteria every Friday. I don't know about you, but I don't really like finishing off the work week with a big dish of brown, fried food. Weekends are for fitting into your cute (translation = much tighter) clothes, and food boiled in oil for several minutes isn't going to help a sister out any.

I was pretty hungry by the time lunch rolled around so a yogurt with fruit just wasn't going to cut it so I decided to hit up Wasabi for some Japanese takeaway. I did the same thing last week, and some of my work colleagues and I decided that we're going to do this every Friday in silent protest of the chef's insistence on fish and chips.

The Brits do takeaways very well. Note that they don't call it "to go" or "takeout," it's always a takeaway, and it usually costs less than to dine-in, which I think is a total rip. In any case, there are a lot more choices here than in the US. Takeout food in the States invariably reminds me of hamburgers, pizza, Mexican food, and sandwiches if you're lucky. Here, you can get sandwiches from Pret, Japanese from Wasabi or Itsu, chicken bowls from Nando's, croissants and pastries from Paul's or Patisserie Valerie along with the ubiquitous American chains you can't escape anywhere in the world.

Takeaway sushi did throw me for a loop at first, but I'm getting quite used to it - I really like getting a takeaway seaweed salad for lunch! Of course the quality's not the same as an actual sit down restaurant, but it's nice to have a healthier option than Taco Bell. I admit that they do look a little funny - the sushi comes individually wrapped in plastic, and they almost look a bit fake but still very very edible.

Stand Up and Be Counted, Or Else...

You'll be fined 1000 pounds and prosecuted as a criminal by the good people at the census enforcement people. Overreact much?

That's right, it's census time here in the UK so we must all dutifully complete the form we received in the post or suffer the very dire consequences. I don't mind so much, and I understand the need behind census-taking, but some of these questions are way beyond the line of comfort; the ACLU would have a freaking field day with some of these questions.

First off, the questionnaire focuses on an exact date - March 27, 2011. They want to know who was in your house overnight that night, visitors and all. I'm absolutely serious.

Some other invasive questions:

• Are you in good health? Do you support anyone who isn't in good health?
• Do you have a job? How many hours do you work a week? Where is your job? If you're unemployed, are you looking for a job?
• Where were you born? What religion are you?
• List all of the passports that you hold.
• What kind of education do you have?

I have a question for the census questionnaire people: Are you criminally insane? Who asks these kinds of questions in a census?! I've only recently gotten used to the CCTV cameras everywhere, but this just strikes me as bureaucracy run amok. But that doesn't mean I didn't fill it out - I don't have an extra 1000 quid laying around folks!