The Man. 9-26-11 (Yes, I know I'm white.)

The day has been going downhill. Someone added my name to something, and it came as a surprise to me. I'm trying to figure out how to deal with it, but it's not a good feeling. Next, I found out the book shelves I ordered online from Target 2 days ago had a price drop of $13, but after 20 min. of leading me on, the guy on the phone said I couldn't get the difference. Then, I went to a talk about Maori parenting, or rather, about a woman trying to help Maori women who are about to lose their children. If I remember the numbers correctly, Maoris make up 14% of the New Zealand population, but Maoris are about 60% of the children that are taken away from their parents. That number seems too incredible to be correct. Mercy, I hope not! But I'm just talking about The Man (you know, whitey... the establishment).
On the way home from the Maori talk, me, as pregnant as I am, was getting on the tram and was shifting my bag to sit down in a seat, when a college student whipped around me and sat down. Fortunately, there was still a seat left, or I would have been a goner, standing up in the non-air-conditioned tram with windows that wouldn't open. Her and her Vera Bradley bag and Iphone. I managed to check myself, but I felt like going off on a rant about entitled, upper middle class, white folks, especially those that think that they should get a trophy just for appearing. Yes, she was a female, but she's just a cog in the machine, a contributor to the hegemony!
And so the final tipping point in my rant is the issue of life insurance to take care of my little Boop. It was 9pm after a book lecture, and I was trying to get prepared for work and settle in for the evening. I received a phone call; the insurance rate I had initially been quoted, after all of the paper work, had doubled! Of course, I started the application process in late June, when I was still at a normal BMI. Now that I have ballooned to an appropriate pregnancy weight 3 months later, it will be hard to get a decent rate on insurance. And then there was the panic of what happens to me if something happens during delivery. Who will take care of my little Boop? So it's a pretty low time, I'm tired, not sure what to do, and I'm feeling stressed because of The Man.