We've all been there.
On the tube or train or bus. Intently looking at a woman's stomach trying to work out whether or not she's pregnant. You don't want to be impolite if she is; you don't want to offend if she isn't.
The man who offered me his seat Monday evening on the Central line clearly needs his eyes testing. After my uncontrolled laughter I doubt he'll ever ask another woman ever again if she wants a seat.
My waist is a rather small size eight.