Maternity Wear

Oh boy oh boy oh boy. It's a sad moment for this lady of looks to see the fall styles really passing me by. They're not made for this evolving shape! Here's the tale of my first encounters with maternity wear.

A couple weeks ago, Sydney patiently held my hand in my first sojourn into maternity wear. We went to a maternity clothing shop in Rittenhouse. She said, See, some of these clothes are nice. She was absolutely right. Some were downright adorable (see dress on LEFT). The only hitch is that they are ridiculously expensive (also see dress on LEFT). Call me cheap but paying more than $60 for one skirt just isn't my bag. There's not THAT much more fabric, people! It's a total scam, preying on women who've ballooned into a strange new shape and are just aching to still be cute in public. (At home, I just wear boxers or stretch pants. Poor hubby.) I very slowly perused the store, taking serious glances at the store clerks to see if they would offer to help me, or if they just perceived my belly as simply big. I think I worked hard enough in assistance of Syd that it wouldn't have been right for them to ask, but it was a mind vortex of a situation regardless. This was my future. My outerwear future. A big huge, stomach hole of a winter coat was awaiting me.

Sydney looked really cute in the outfits she tried on though, so I was hopeful. A few days later I went to the maternity section of another Rittenhouse spot. The clothes were so weird. Half of them were like swimming in pools, while the other half was already so tight and stretched. Wha? I was so confused. And the sizing--it's all either small, medium, or large (when did that ever really work for women's bodies?) OR it's your size now plus some pregnancy growth. Was I a size 6 or a size 10? I didn't understand it at all. I did find only one pair of pants that seemed to fit okay. They were work pants, and I'm desperate for some as I only have one pair that still fits. It was a moment of reckoning, though, buying those pants. I slid up to the counter, and put them down. The cashier then asked me something very reasonable about my purchase and I. JUST. FROZE. Stood there. Couldn't say a word. Only stared. And then I turned, and briskly scampered away. Without a word. Left those pants right on the counter and abandoned ship so fast. It was a moment I was not yet prepared for--wearing pants with stretchy fabric that hikes up to my boobs, moving up in size, spending money for these big changes, acknowledging that not only clothing but LIFE is different, picturing big bras that collect milk leaks, incorporating baby carrying accoutrements into my everyday wear, and, um, having a CHILD. Yeah, that too. It was all just too much. I can only imagine the look of fear that cashier saw. Before she soon saw nothing but the back of me running away.