I had a liberating experience this past weekend —Â I bought clothes that fit.
Iâ€™m in the second half of my pregnancy and I was still putting off the purchase of maternity clothes until recently, telling myself that I could do without for a little longer and to continue with the rubber-band-through-the-button-loop technique for my pants.
Quite simply, I was behaving like a moron.
The second I pulled on the pants in the dressing room of a maternity store, feeling the stretchy waistband hug â€“ not suffocate â€“ my belly, I did my happy dance. Booty shakinâ€™. Arms pumping. Head bobbing. All of this and there wasn’t even music involved.
When that was over, I threw back the curtain of the dressing room and walked out to my waiting husband. He noticed the goofy smile on my face and even goofier back-and-forth march I did for him. And when no one was looking, I flashed him my belly â€“ pronounced but content under a swath of black elastic.
This is the best thing ever!â€ť I exclaimed, maybe a bit too loud.
So I bought two more pants, a pair of jeans and three blouses, all of which look ridiculously adorable on me. (Yeah, I said it.)
I don’t care that it’d qualify as a fashion faux pas to the Nth degree, but I plan to rock my maternity pants for a very … very … long time.