I don't do well with nosy questions

Scene: Tuesday evening, Costco warehouse store.

I am browsing the aisles and come across a lady offering samples of a cranberry-raspberry blend juice which does not contain added sugar - it's sweetened with apple juice. As cranberry juice can reduce the incidence of urinary tract infections, which pregnant women are more susceptible to, I decide to try a sample and join the small knot of people around her table.

While pouring the samples and giving her spiel about the juice, she suggests making "juice bowls" out of it.

"Do you know how to make a juice bowl?" she asks me and another person at the table. We shake our heads. She then describes the process, which involves freezing a layer of juice in between two nested metal bowls. "Kids love it!" she says to me, as the other person wanders off. "Do you have any kids?" she asks.

I hesitate fractionally. "No." I reply. I think I spot the slightest sweep of her eyes to my either-pregnant-or-fat abdomen, under its coat, but she says nothing. I thank her, put a bottle of juice in my cart, and continue my shopping.

At the end of my shopping, I have cause to pass her aisle again. She is finishing up a conversation with another woman, and sees me and my cart. She spots my latest addition to the cart. "String cheese!" she exclaims. "Thank you!" I have no idea why I am being thanked, but I figure it was on her shopping list and I reminded her to get some.

"Kids love string cheese," she continues. "They eat it like crazy!"

"I know," I reply, smiling at the memories of my cousins and I gobbling the stuff up in our younger days. I still gobble it, but less speedily now that I know how much it costs.

She pauses, and frowns at me. "I thought you said you didn't have kids," she remarks. I can feel myself tensing up inside. I don't want to have this conversation.

"I don't," I say. I know I should elaborate somehow but I can't come up with the words. There is an uncomfortable pause.

"Are you...going to have kids?" she asks.

I manage to bite back all the inappropriate comments that come to mind. "Yes." I say simply. She frowns at me again. "...I like string cheese too." I add lamely.

"Oh!" She brightens, pleased at this socially-acceptable way to finish the awkwardness. "Yes, they're a great source of protein!"

I nod, and take my leave, while I try to talk myself out of the mild funk that the conversation has put me into.