“Nowhere on North American TV have we seen a weather reader as gross as you. Your front end looks like the Hindenburg and your rear end looks like a brick s**t-house. We now turn off Global.” This insult was issued to Canadian meteorologist Kristi Gordon. The diss sounds complicated and boxing-inspired – uppercut, side-swipe, kapow! – but, on closer examination, isn’t. “Hindenburg” just means a big thing; brick shit-house also means a big thing.

Why would anyone call someone else fat in such a verbose way? Aha. Gordon happened to be pregnant and dared to wear a dress on television in her condition. If this wasn’t depressing enough, she has said the vitriol wasn’t a surprise since she had experienced similar wrath during her first pregnancy.

If you’ve ever been pregnant you probably won’t be surprised by this either. For those yet to experience the joy of strangers commenting on your appearance or grabbing your belly, here’s a guide to coping with such behaviour:

When you think someone’s calling you fat

Even the most demonic, vindictive person will know that to level “fat” at a person who is expressly supposed to be growing insults the insulter more than the insulted. And yet, they want to: to them, leaving your physical change unremarked represents a missed opportunity. They’ll try anything, from the cliched (glowing) to the surreal (peaky), the affectionate animal likeness (heffalump), the fake-cheeky challenge (“how many are you supposed to be eating for, again?”), the solicitude (“don’t worry, you’ll have all the time in the world to lose it”).

There will be someone in your acquaintance, I guarantee, who will not rest until you’re fully apprised of the fact that you’ve grown and they’ve noticed. Whatever it is, just say “thank you”, beatifically, as if you’ve taken it as a compliment.

When a waiter, or any other person, casts themselves in a surveillance role over your alcohol intake

The things I’ve heard: a barman refusing to serve a visibly pregnant woman; a cocktail waiter at a wedding leaning over to my friend’s husband to inform him that she’d already had one; a fellow guest at a party haranguing a woman over the danger of foetal alcohol spectrum disorder when she didn’t even have a drink in her hand. I strongly disrecommend giving these people a complete survey of the evidence regarding alcohol intake in pregnancy. I would, furthermore, emphatically advise against any detailed conversation about risk, epidemiology or the principles of placental transfer. Instead, smile sphinxishly, as if you can see straight through to their deepest motivations, but are too polite to elaborate.

When a stranger manhandles your bump

As old as pregnancy itself is the urge some people have to communicate with your unborn child through touch, without paying due respect to you as the intermediary. You think they’re invading your space. As far as they are concerned, it’s not more invasive than smiling at a baby in a buggy once it’s out.

What’s new is that you are now seen as a cliche, and if you say anything, there will be eyebrows raised to indicate, “Ooh, touchy. Low blood sugar, is it?” All you can do is back away. While smiling.

When a person worries out loud about the impact on the environment of human overpopulation

This normally comes from a young person. The older eco-warrior (my uncle) is more likely to interrogate you about your plans for a green childhood and how you plan to avoid the curse of the disposable nappy. I cannot commend you less to a tirade that starts: “That’s your plan for the future, is it? Species suicide?” Once you’re an angry pregger, someone else will weigh in – “All this anger … have you ever wondered what it’s doing to your baby?” Instead, smile. This time malevolently, as though you’re carrying a weapon.

You may have noticed a theme. Of all the indignities of this reproductive state, the greatest is that you’re not allowed to get angry. If you are of an argumentative bent, you can’t even speak most of the time because it will be interpreted as anger. You have to reimagine the world as a particularly egregious programme you’re listening to on the radio; and then, keep smiling.