Ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome made me pretty ill. My recovery plan included a low-impact exercise program of some variety. Yoga? Pilates? Both seemed doomed to attract the fertile masses, and another part of my recovery plan was arranging a baby-free month. No fertility specialists. No children under twelve. No pregnant women.

So I chose Tai Chi. And of course I landed in a class with an expectant couple, the female half of which persisted in reminding us of her condition five times a class by asking the instructor if she needed to modify the next move in any way because of - well, you know - whilst rubbing her belly. And could she interrupt the class now to ask if she could be politely excused to go to the toilet and rub her belly because - you know. As if anyone a) needs permission to slip off and use the toilet; b) is going to be denied a toilet break; c) needs to be pregnant to qualify for privileges A and B; d) cares why she needs to go to the toilet. And need her belly rubbing be actually continuous? I mean, she's not even showing.

That's right, folks. Our valued classmate was a real pregna donna*.

So I tripped her on the way out**.

"Did you manage to get your knee in as she fell?" Mr Bea asked me on the way home.

"Nah, I was too slow for that. I had to wait til she hit the ground then I gave her a good kick in the gut."

Mr Bea nodded his approval. "Sounds like her baby would have been far better off if she'd just kept her mouth shut and done the moves."

"And not just the baby."



*Pregna donna n. - a pregnant woman who keeps verbally reminding you she's pregnant so you can arrange for the universe to revolve around her unecessarily.

**Please note I did not actually inflict any sort of violence on this woman, except in my little fantasy world. It is not necessary to flame me for this.