Hitting the tube tonight during rush hour for the first time in about a year, I found myself accidentally giving a death stare to a random woman who ‘stole’ my seat.
Giving her my best evil eye glare, I waited for her to check herself, realise her mistake, jump up and offer me the very chair she had beaten me to in the on/off bunfight.
Then I realised I wasn’t pregant any more. No longer do I sport a pronounced bump that flags up I’m a special person in need of a priority chair. I am a faceless nobody once again, no longer to be treated with any consideration whatsoever in the rat race throng.
Not, to be honest that it happened very often, but I used to be pretty good at targetting the vulnerable fellow-commuter, who would be guilted out of his or her seat by my weary, pleading and judgemental eye.
Alas special treatment no more, I will have to wait till I’m old, wobbly (well more wobbly) and grey (ok more grey or at least not dyed) till I get offered a seat again..
Emily Manson 
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