There are two primary joys that come from my already-growing belly:
1) It means I have a healthy little life thriving inside me. "Hey little baby, I hope you are enjoying all that mac n' cheese. And I promise to avoid popcorn for awhile. You made it VERY clear the other night that you don't enjoy the popped corn. We heard you loud and clear. We're going to have tacos tonight. Please don't make me throw them up. Just this once..." Love, Mom.
2) My maternity jeans are WAY better than my regular non-prego, normal, everyday wearing , pre-muffin top, jeans. Thanks to a friend that only had one child, then happily passed on her designer maternity wear to ME when I was pregnant with Reese, I am the proud owner of some used, but beautiful, Sevens For All Mankind and Joe's Jeans Maternity Jeans. There is also a cute pair with a red circle around the letter K and words San Francisco on them. K San Francisco? I've never heard of the brand before, and have no idea where they are from...but I LOVE them.
It's true that expensive denim lasts longer than regular denim. These jeans were worn for all of my friend's pregnancy, and two of mine...including the months of postpartum recovery where I didn't dare try on the pre-pregnancy jeans. This is the 4th time they will be worn regularly and they are barely starting to show the wear and tear I've put on them.
When I was pregnant with Quincy, I couldn't wait to dig into that box of maternity clothes again. I eagerly pulled out the sweaters and jeans and admired them as they filled me with memories of being pregnant with Reese. I thought I would feel the same way this time. Sadly, when I opened the dusty storage bin...I was less than thrilled to see it's contents. "AGAIN?" I thought. The shirts have stains on them (was I too fat and pregnant to notice I'd spilled my taco bell cheese sauce? I guess so...) and they are stretched from being worn to maximum capacity during those last two months when I was in denial and refused to believe I was still getting even bigger. The tops are not from high end maternity shops with designer labels. They are from Old Navy. FYI, Old Navy Maternity wear has a limit of two pregnancies per clothing item. It's time for some new shirts. I can't believe I even saved some of these things. Is it possible they fell apart and stained themselves while in storage?
Christmas for Meg will be tops that fit. and don't have stains. And aren't designed for a December baby.
Then there are The Jeans.
Have you read those Traveling Pants books? I read them all a few weeks ago, and honestly thought they were kind of lame (yet I kept reading...it's a problem of mine) but maybe I didn't understand The Magic of the Pants, because I have no jeans that I automatically feel incredible in. If only I'd considered the pair sitting in a box in my garage. I would have appreciated the books more. "The Pants=Love. Love the Pants, Love Yourself." -Lena Kaligaris
The Jeans. I DO have Magic Pants! Everything else in that storage bin was a total let down. At least I had the jeans to look forward to, right? I pulled out those Sevens and admired them. Then I put them on.
Wait. What's that?! A hole?! HOW?!
Oh.
Right.
I remember.
The day was a bad one. It was sometime in my ninth month of pregnancy with Quincy. I was running late for the little baby shower they were throwing me at Aaron's office. I had bad hair, felt fat, and had nothing to wear. I threw on a crusty sweater, but didn't care, because at least I had THE JEANS.
I quickly pulled on the jeans and somewhere above mid thigh I heard the horrid "rrrrrriiiiiiiiiip!" noise long before I felt the tear. The jeans were still in tact, but the stitching where the waistline meets the stretchy maternity panel had raveled (ahem...been stretched to maximum capacity) undone during my furious motions to pull them up over my pregnant hind quarters.
I know you are thinking, "yeah yeah, I feel real sorry for you, skinny Meg. boo hoo your pants didn't fit. welcome to everybody's world"
but it wasn't just ANY pants that didn't fit. it was THE Pants.
I don't care WHO you are, or what you look like...You KNOW it is still a SAD SAD day when you don't even fit into your maternity jeans anymore. I totally threw myself on the bed and cried like a baby, then threw them in the storage bin so I wouldn't have to look at them until after the baby was born.
Fast Forward 2 years and imagine my sadness this week, when after my anticlimactic unveiling of the stained, stretched out tops, I also re-discovered the tear in the Sevens. And the sad, sad "fat day" came flooding back into memory? Almost enough to make me cry again, I tell ya.
What's a girl to do? This may sound shallow, but I just can't go back to old navy maternity jeans after having had a taste of the good-oh so comfortable-always feel halfway decent-designer maternity jeans-life. And I am NOT paying $300 for maternity jeans. No offense, friend who made the original purchase... I will love you forever your generous offer, it changed my life...but I don't gots that kind o' lettuce to support a jeans fettish.
I still have the other pairs. They are nice, good, wonderful. But they aren't the EVERYDAY jeans. The default jeans. They are the shades of blue-that-only-match-particular-tops-blue.
I NEEDED my staple jeans back.
I took them to Hillary in desperate need to have them fixed. She disappeared into her basement, and returned 5 minutes later with beautifully surged jeans and they are already back on my pregnant butt looking fabulous.
She rescued them
See? Expensive denim lasts. Maybe they have nine lives.
And I still haven't had to buy any maternity pants! That money is going to shirts asap.
miracle pants. magic pants.
(that's not me, btw...it's an ad. I'd never tuck my shirt in. Ever. And I'd never wear those espadrilles...especially not in November. But the jeans are cute, right?)Happy ending.
