A HUGE Work Week

I’m sitting in the airport in Boise, ID waiting for my flight to Reno. I have a week-long national meeting until Sunday this week. It’s my ninth year going to this event at John Asquaga’a Nugget Hotel and Casino. There are a few pawn shops nearby, but mostly, it’s a giant hotel in the middle of nowhere. I will check in to a cloud of cigarette smoke tonight and not get to leave for five days. I feel like this meeting takes weeks off my life, just from the noxious tobacco fumes alone.

Last year, during this meeting in Reno, I was offered my full time job with Hanger Prosthetics. I met indoor-poolside with the Vice President of Sales and Marketing and The President of the Upper Extremity Division, two men who I have considered friends for years and negotiated my hard earned position with this company that I’ve consulted with for the last nine years.

During our negotiations, I kept thinking of the promise I’d made to Max and Bob just a few weeks earlier. I was about to take on a big role in this company, all the while knowing that I would probably be pregnant in the coming year. I felt like I needed to let my future bosses know. For some reason, I feel like people look on pregnancy in the professional world as a lack of commitment to one’s job, even though that is probably not the case. It’s hard to look at a pregnant woman and think, “Now there’s a go getter! She’s a force to be reckoned with – a real power player.” When I see a pregnant woman in a maternity business suit, I think, “She should go home, take that get-up off, and put her feet up.” Maybe it’s just me.

But it was important to me that they know. I wanted to be up front with my intentions, but I couldn’t be sure how they would take it. I believed that they were both accepting of homosexuals, in fact one of them has a step-daughter who is gay, but I wondered if they’d be accepting of what I was going to do. Not that it mattered that much, but there is a very fine political and social dance that we do in the corporate world with those in power. While my personal life is supposed to be “personal” it’s really not so much when you work and travel in packs together. Everybody eventually knows everything about each other.

Later that evening, while having drinks with them and a few others of my compadres, our conversation somehow turned to relationships and family. My boss told the story of his gay cousin who was forced into the closet by his aunt. He said that everyone in the family knew that his cousin was gay, but his own mother never acknowledged it and told the rest of the family lies to cover for her shame over who he was. He went on to say that his cousin eventually contracted HIV and died of AIDS and that his aunt never allowed him to be who he really was, even in death, as she covered his passing with more stories.

By the end of the conversation, my boss was visibly shaken with tears in his eyes. It’s amazing how life puts you in front of the right people at the right times to facilitate the coming together of a beautiful plan. At that moment, I knew that I’d have both of their support and I felt very secure that not only had I made the right decision to accept the position with Hanger, but I was exactly where I belonged; with the kinds of people that would not judge me for what I had promised to do. A few weeks later, I forwarded Max’s letter to Oprah to both of my bosses and they both responded with support and praise. One even said that he teared up when he read it, but that if I told anyone, he’d deny it up and down; he’s a big, intimidating, tough guy with a very gentle, soft heart.

That’s not true for all of the people I work with, unfortunately. I do work with some openly homophobic folks. If I don’t want to be judged for my choices, it’s my test to not judge them, in kind, for what I perceive as shortcomings. It’s tough sometimes, as I’m sure it’s tough for them to understand and accept me.

So here I am, a year later, waiting for a plane to take me to Reno. Last year, I was a lean and mean fitness machine. I had participated in races the prior year and was always running toward something or from something else. Though I was my most fit, it was an exhausting way to live.

This year, I waddle in 20 pounds heavier, two pants sizes bigger, and a whole lot happier, honestly. Max says I’m “glowing” and look better each time he sees me. Flattery gets him everywhere. When I was having an estrogen meltdown, he couldn’t really say anything that helped except, “You’re pretty. You’re really pretty.” His helplessness to find the right words to comfort me made me laugh. Many times, he’d say, “Just take some time for yourself, find a nice bottle of wine and some really fine chocolate and relax.”

“Stop telling me to freaking eat all the time, dammit!” I yelled. “I’m fat as freaking hell and all you can say is, ‘Eat something, you’ll feel better?’” I totally chewed his head off and his silence and fear to say anything but, “You’re pretty,” made me laugh hysterically. Even though I yelled at him for suggesting I eat, that’s usually what I did. Nothing like feeding my face with rich, decadent foods to make it all better.

And so here I am, in that in between phase where people might look at me and wonder, “Is she pregnant or has she just totally let herself go?” The answer is, “Yes and yes.” I’ve surrendered to the hormone weight, the baby weight, the pan of brownies, the vanilla bean ice cream and the big ol’ pa-donk-a-donk ass. It’s all part of our BIG year! And that’s what I’ll tell everyone at our first sales meeting when we go around the room and talk about the successes we experienced the past year.

“Last year was a big year for me,” I’ll say. “But 2010 is going to be HUGE!”