Pregnant and Trashy in the Czech Republic (Feb 2011)

I woke up 10 minutes before I had to leave the house, well I suppose I woke up 25 minutes before, but I continued to hit snooze until there was physically no way I could get ready in less time and be socially acceptable. I move relatively quickly in the morning, and 10 minutes is just enough to get the basics done: dress, brush teeth, deodorant, hair up, no makeup, hat, gloves, scarf, boots, and pathetic run to the bus. Most days I at least manage mascara but I figured that the only people who were really going to see me were children and none of them are going to judge me if I don't bring my A-game.
After my first class, I sat with the kids while they ate their breakfast, out of pure laziness really, plus their breakfast looked delightful, some sort of bread with apples and cinnamon in it. Each kid that was expected to be there had a place set for them at the table, two kids had yet to show. I had already eaten breakfast but was hoping that at least one of the kids was sick so I could eat theirs. As luck would have it, one boy was absent, so I happily ate his breakfast.
The other kid showed up around the end of breakfast with her mum who chatted away with Petra, one of the Czech teachers. They looked at me and I smiled, cheeks full of delicious bread, I can't speak Czech and essentially only know words which are not appropriate in mentally sound conversations (sit, stay, poo etc.), so I tend to smile a lot and have the distinct impression that some people think I am dim, I imagine this comes from smiling at the wrong times and saying yes to things that are not yes or no questions. In any case the conversation turned to me, which is always an unsettling experience when you are apart of a conversation where you have no idea what is going on.
Petra said that the aforementioned mum had a question for me, she explained that the mum owned a shop and was wondering if I could model some clothes for her after work. The question caught me off guard, to be honest I didn't even know that mothers name, let alone her profession, plus I looked like I had been hit by a bus on my way to work, but in any case to refrain from being rude I said yes. Petra told her I would do it and then turned back to me and explained that I would be modelling pajamas. I don't know about you, but I think that sounds like the grounds for a cheap backroom porno and I was suddenly very hesitant as to what I had gotten myself in to. The mother was now gesturing towards my chest with a look of disdain, a shocking charade I could understand even through the language barrier. Petra continued her translation and nonchalantly explained that the mother would like to know if I had a push up bra, a very odd question to ask your child's Kindergarten teacher one would think, I shook my head apologetically. The only plus to this question was that a bra would evidently be required which was definitely a step in the right direction.
I managed to coax Lisa in to coming with me. Lisa has been working in the Czech Republic for two years and has been dating a Czech guy nearly the entire time she has been here, so she can understand quite a bit of Czech and has the ability to at least speak somewhat coherently as opposed to my demented child blabber.
So after work we wandered down to what turned out to be a tacky photo shop, decorated beautifully with framed photos of topless and scantily clad women. I was once again overcome with the feeling that I had been cast in something much more scandalous than is within the realm of appropriate for a Kindergarten teacher. Lisa and I shyly walked in not wanting to comment in fear that someone may understand English, we later discovered this was an empty fear and were able to speak to each other quite candidly throughout the entire loss of my dignity, if the other two girls (actual models, not just random teachers) spoke English they did a fabulous job of hiding it.
I was abruptly told to take off my shirt and jeans, and was handed a strap on maternity belly and a pair of maternity pants. I stared at them in shock, this was not exactly the welcome I had been expecting. I suddenly realized this may actually be worse than a backroom porno. I looked at Lisa who looked to be very thankful that she had not been the teacher stealing absent children's breakfasts that morning.
There's no turning back now I thought as I stared at the nude coloured lumpy fabric in my hand. Now call me a prude if you will, but I am not generally in the habit of hanging out in my bra and panties in front of complete strangers so I asked if there was a bathroom and was hastily pointed in the right direction. I went in a 25 year old woman and came out looking like a knocked up teen from Alabama.
For around an hour I was subjected to modeling maternity shirts in cheesy department store catalogue poses in front of a tie dye background while Lisa translated directions given to me in Czech ('Turn to the other side, touch your hair' 'But it's in a ponytail!?' '...act normal...' 'Normal? How am I supposed to act normal with a fake baby strapped to my stomach?' at which point she would laugh the dodged bullet laugh of someone simply observing the spooky situation instead of actively participating). Surprisingly the shirts were for the most part actually quite nice and I figured that Petra must have been wrong about the type of clothes. I counted to Lisa the amount of shirts left in the pile, signifying how long until we could get out of this outlandish situation and home for some much deserved dinner.
Just when we thought it was about to end they opened a new bag and I discovered where they had been hiding the much dreaded pajamas. The bag was approximately the same size as a hockey bag, and if you don't know how big that is, imagine a hockey player in a bag, about that big. And it was full of hideousness. I mean Full. To. The. Brim. with white trash pajamas. Things that would have been considered cute in the early 90's when nothing that we wore should have been considered cute were hiding in this bag eager to reemerge in to the world after laying dormant for nearly 20 years. And I was about to be not only photographed wearing these monstrous outfits with a maternity belly strapped to me, but these photos were going to make their way to the most unforgiving place in the world. The internet. A place where nothing is lost forever, least of all incriminating photos. Good thing I am not considering a career in politics, because the opposition would have a hay day with these glamourous shots.
I stared in utter disbelief at humungous t-shirt nighties with cartoon animals and hearts printed on them and realized that in the backroom of a creepy photo shop in the Czech Republic was where pajamas and my dignity had come to simultaneously die. Lisa literally could not look at me without having to stifle a laugh. I looked about 5 months pregnant and was wearing a giant grey t-shirt with Dalmatians printed on it, I had on no makeup and had a messy ponytail, I looked straight at her and said 'It looks like I should have a bottle of cheap vodka in my hand' 'And a cigarette', she added, 'and a dirty child clinging on to my leg.' We both laughed. The mum looked up and through some misunderstanding I was then offered a shot of alcohol. I was pretty sure I would need half the bottle and felt trashy enough without actually adding a shot of cheap booze, so I politely declined.
Through some stroke of evil, things got worse. The nighties now had buttons down the front for breastfeeding, and I was expected to then unbutton the top and put my hands on my breast while looking in to my top pretending that my nipple was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. This was definitely a new low. This had to end and soon.
After three painful hours, Lisa and I were finally able to communicate through broken Czech and hand gestures that we had to leave. I was handed the equivalent of about $30CDN, apparently the worth of my dignity, and sent merrily on my way. We made it approximately 5 steps from the closed doors of the creepy photo shop before we both burst out laughing. 'What the fuck just happened?' I shrieked. 'I have no idea.' she responded, laughing. 'My God. I need a beer.'
And thus my weirdest day in the Czech Republic came to a close with a well earned beer, a schnitzel and a very bizarre story.