dressed for success, or, why I'm not wearing pants
When I was a naive 20 weeks pregnant I went out and bought some maternity jeans and a few shirts. Perfect, I thought, maternity clothes aren't so bad. Now at 32 weeks, I laugh at that preggo so smug with her handful of Gap Maternity.
I'm over 5'9" and all torso. I know, I know, stop bragging! It's a enviable build. All the height and none of the legs. People are like, that girl has torso for days! And check out those monkey arms! Bow chica ow ow.
As my belly grows straight out it's becoming impossible to dress. All my shirts hit my belly button then tent out a couple inches from there. Yes, my maternity shirts. I bought an adorable maternity dress online, on the model it hit maybe an inch above her knee, on me it's obscenely short. I can't move without showing the world most of my arse.
Before you say it, yes, I have that belly band thing. But between the elastic band on my jeans, the elastic belly band, a shirt and the nearly 40 extra pounds (yes, really)... I'm ready to claw my way out of all the layers around 3pm. When I get home there are no longer just shoes by the front door. Ev.er.y.thing is coming off before the door even swings shut.
This nearly nude dresscode at home means once I'm there the motivation to put real clothes back on to do anything is completely gone. This is how husbands end up doing errands for their pregnant wives. It's not that pregant women are too tired, or lazy, it's because we aren't wearing pants. And new episodes of Wilfred and Orange is the New Black are on Netflix. Pass the Lucky Charms.
I'm over 5'9" and all torso. I know, I know, stop bragging! It's a enviable build. All the height and none of the legs. People are like, that girl has torso for days! And check out those monkey arms! Bow chica ow ow.
As my belly grows straight out it's becoming impossible to dress. All my shirts hit my belly button then tent out a couple inches from there. Yes, my maternity shirts. I bought an adorable maternity dress online, on the model it hit maybe an inch above her knee, on me it's obscenely short. I can't move without showing the world most of my arse.
Before you say it, yes, I have that belly band thing. But between the elastic band on my jeans, the elastic belly band, a shirt and the nearly 40 extra pounds (yes, really)... I'm ready to claw my way out of all the layers around 3pm. When I get home there are no longer just shoes by the front door. Ev.er.y.thing is coming off before the door even swings shut.
This nearly nude dresscode at home means once I'm there the motivation to put real clothes back on to do anything is completely gone. This is how husbands end up doing errands for their pregnant wives. It's not that pregant women are too tired, or lazy, it's because we aren't wearing pants. And new episodes of Wilfred and Orange is the New Black are on Netflix. Pass the Lucky Charms.
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| This is the situation... basically. |