Maternity Jeans and Pregmentia.

So those maternity jeans I "ordered" three weeks ago? I don't exactly know how to say this, but... I never did.

I remember it exactly-- I was sitting at work. One of my co-workers had just walked back into the room and I announced that I had broken down and ordered two pairs of maternity jeans. She laughed and asked, "What took you so long?"

I called Jason after work to tell him. I told my mom. I consulted BabyCenter for opinions on my retailer of choice. And then I waited. And waited. And three weeks later, when they never arrived, I started doubting my memory. Maybe it had never even happened. Maybe it was all an illusion, my way-too-tightly-compressed belly finding a way to infiltrate my mind.

I called Gap yesterday. They have no record of my order. I have an online account with them, and the last time I placed an order was in May.

It never happened. Pregmentia strikes again. (I re-ordered them an hour after my wake-up call, and this time I wrote down the order number and stuck it to my fridge.)

Now my mid-section has to wait another two weeks for some relief. Sorry, belly.

Read more...

Anti-Maternity Wear

I really don't want to buy maternity clothes.

I shouldn't say that so definitively, because now that I have this idea in my head that I can withstain, I know my stubborn-self will stay true to that desire until my belly button is screaming in pain.

There is hardly a shirt in my wardrobe that clings to my stomach. I have--and will--always be a flowy top kind of girl. I HATE the feeling of fabric clinging to my skin, of stiff jeans squeezing at my hips. I'd rather wear a loose dress and sandals or shorts and a breezy top any day of the week.

Thankfully, that means I have a closet full of baby doll tops, of swingy dresses and skirts, leggings and billowy tunics. So this means I don't have to waste money on clothes that accomplish the exact same thing and that I can only wear for a few months, right? I can save that money and instead splurge on some Christian Louboutin's and mouthwateringly cute baby band onesies?

I was really deadset on the idea until I got dressed for work yesterday.

I'm sitting here now dressed for brunch with my parents for their birthdays (happy 60th, dad! and 29th, mom!), wearing a maxi dress that I had pre-baby apocolaypse, and it hides my burgeoning bump and jiggly love handles quite well, thank you.

A few weeks ago I spent a little too much money at Urban Outfitters, investing in shirts like this in five colors, because it's exactly the kind of thing I've always worn and I'm pretty sure it will accommodate a belly full of twelve kids if I wanted.

I also bought the stretchiest, could turn any group of friends no matter how diverse in size into The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants skinny jeans, and I'm also pretty confident they'll fit later on, albeit with the top button undone.

But yesterday, I woke up to go to work with absolutely no desire to put on clothes (it was 2 in the morning), and grabbed my standard I-don't-feel-like-getting-dressed outfit: wide-legged black pants made out of sweatpants-material complete with an elasto-waist, and a plain white T-shirt.

It only took about 10 minutes of sitting at my desk before I realized that these pants, these once oh-so-comfy, can-fit-a-Thanksgiving-meal-waistline pants, were DIGGING into my navel. It took everything in me to not leave work early. They were THAT uncomfortable.

Now I'm wondering just how long I can make it sans-maternity wear. If I can't trust my trusty sweatpants, who can I trust?

Read more...