I decided last week that after another week of expansion it was time to get a few more maternity items.
It’s weird to shop for this stuff initially. When I was just getting puffy (but anticipating getting big) I went into a Motherhood Maternity store expecting lots of awesome. Of course, I got choked up, miserable, and hot. Every first makes me feel weepy anyway, and the ugly clothes made me weepier. Everything looked unfamiliar and I didn’t know how to negotiate it. I had no idea what size to get for a belly that had yet to come. I managed to get over myself and grab a pair of jeans. Apparently you get the same size you are pre-pregnancy theres just this really huge elastic waist instead of buttons and zippers.
My second attempt was the other day. I had a goal of getting a few tops and maybe a dress. I went into Target and managed to not get teary-eyed while I headed for the scary maternity section. Why is every thing black or red or tan? It feels weird to dress in black when I’m pregnant. Black is for cool and backstage. I don’t know why, but maternity seems like it should be a little more stylish...I mean your body is already morphing into something crazy, the least designers could do is make you feel pretty with clothes. But I don’t want to spend a lot…there are some really hip sites with great clothes for a woman who wants to spend $75 on a top. Me, not so much. So, I am stuck in the boring middle ground of looking at places like Target and Motherhood. But why is everything so horrible? Are the manufacturers of moderately priced maternity clothes subliminally yelling at pregnant women to cover up? “YOU’RE A MOM NOW! NOBODY WANTS TO SEE ANY PART OF YOUR NECK!!” I am officially uncool. Not that I was cool before, but I could at least dress the part. Now...theres no hiding my uncoolness. Letting go of cool does have its perks...embarassing, but yet, still perks.
So I was shopping while wearing cut off yoga pants, a hat with completely outta control curly hair under it, a crappy tight red T-shirt, running shoes, and an oversize hoodie that came out of the mens dept. last week because womens hoodies dont zip over my belly. I looked like a really bad version of Julia Roberts in that movie where she disguises herself in order to run away from her abusive husband. All I lacked was the fake mustache. In my defense I had just finished walking the neighborhood...either way, I had a revelation. That I had become that woman that I always dreaded...careless and sloppily clothed with no makeup and a messy ponytail in a public place that was not a gym. But I WANTED some cool maternity clothes! So I drive to the mall...
More embarrassment. I park by the food court and before I get out of the car I thought, what store am I going to find maternity clothes in a mall full of "teeny bopper" stores? I look over. Sears was right next door. I reasoned that Sears of all places should have maternity clothes-it seems like a very matronly place and they have EVERYTHING. They only thing I’ve ever purchased at a Sears is a stove and a washer/dryer. I got over my prejudice that Sears was a place for old ladies and decided to go in. But before I got out of the car, I really wanted to finish a pretzel that I purchased at Target for my “second breakfast.” So as I was sitting there, I realized that I was dressed in sweat clothes eating a pretzel in my car in front of Sears. The brutal reality forced me to do the only thing I could imagine doing at a moment like this–I texted my gorgeous, insanely cool, perfect-haired, immaculately dressed, photographer/model friend Amanda and told her. It was some form of self torture. I was hideous and I needed to revel in it and soak it up for what it was worth.
I marched into Sears AND JC Penny’s in my sloppy outfit clutching my pretzel and looked at rows of dowdy unattractive clothes. I went into maternity section after maternity section and soaked up all the horrific tops and pants and big bras. Determined to find a dress and just one or two freaking tops, I even went into Dilliards. That was the most humiliating and freeing thing of all. Dilliards contains expensive, small clothes purchased by pretty thin ladies who dress up to go shopping early in the morning. Lets be honest, its the "Macy's" of my lame small town. Now I was slouching around Dilliards looking like a janitor or somebody about to unload a gun on the place. I was especially mortified when I walked by all the makeup counter girls. If I was them, I totally would have judged me. But there was a small part of me that enjoyed this state of disrepair–not even one Kiosk boy called out to me to ask if he could ask me a question. I was ugly and living on Mars. It was both great and awful. But the thing I kept reminding myself of was that I HAD CHOSEN to dress this way. Am I on my way to becoming sloppy sweatpant mom?
They were probably afraid I was concealing a weapon instead of carrying a baby bump.
So I gave up on real maternity clothes and bought clothes from a teeny bopper store that seemed to work really well as faux maternity clothes. I’m not ready to surrender to Sears.
It’s humbling, and anything that humbles us is supposed to be good for us. Some women accept pregnancy changes very gracefully and I applaud them. I just don’t want to look like a frumpy weirdo while I learn to accept my expanding shape.
Oh, and while I was in the mall I walked by another pretzel shop while I was eating my first one and actually considered a second…
It’s weird to shop for this stuff initially. When I was just getting puffy (but anticipating getting big) I went into a Motherhood Maternity store expecting lots of awesome. Of course, I got choked up, miserable, and hot. Every first makes me feel weepy anyway, and the ugly clothes made me weepier. Everything looked unfamiliar and I didn’t know how to negotiate it. I had no idea what size to get for a belly that had yet to come. I managed to get over myself and grab a pair of jeans. Apparently you get the same size you are pre-pregnancy theres just this really huge elastic waist instead of buttons and zippers.
My second attempt was the other day. I had a goal of getting a few tops and maybe a dress. I went into Target and managed to not get teary-eyed while I headed for the scary maternity section. Why is every thing black or red or tan? It feels weird to dress in black when I’m pregnant. Black is for cool and backstage. I don’t know why, but maternity seems like it should be a little more stylish...I mean your body is already morphing into something crazy, the least designers could do is make you feel pretty with clothes. But I don’t want to spend a lot…there are some really hip sites with great clothes for a woman who wants to spend $75 on a top. Me, not so much. So, I am stuck in the boring middle ground of looking at places like Target and Motherhood. But why is everything so horrible? Are the manufacturers of moderately priced maternity clothes subliminally yelling at pregnant women to cover up? “YOU’RE A MOM NOW! NOBODY WANTS TO SEE ANY PART OF YOUR NECK!!” I am officially uncool. Not that I was cool before, but I could at least dress the part. Now...theres no hiding my uncoolness. Letting go of cool does have its perks...embarassing, but yet, still perks.
So I was shopping while wearing cut off yoga pants, a hat with completely outta control curly hair under it, a crappy tight red T-shirt, running shoes, and an oversize hoodie that came out of the mens dept. last week because womens hoodies dont zip over my belly. I looked like a really bad version of Julia Roberts in that movie where she disguises herself in order to run away from her abusive husband. All I lacked was the fake mustache. In my defense I had just finished walking the neighborhood...either way, I had a revelation. That I had become that woman that I always dreaded...careless and sloppily clothed with no makeup and a messy ponytail in a public place that was not a gym. But I WANTED some cool maternity clothes! So I drive to the mall...
More embarrassment. I park by the food court and before I get out of the car I thought, what store am I going to find maternity clothes in a mall full of "teeny bopper" stores? I look over. Sears was right next door. I reasoned that Sears of all places should have maternity clothes-it seems like a very matronly place and they have EVERYTHING. They only thing I’ve ever purchased at a Sears is a stove and a washer/dryer. I got over my prejudice that Sears was a place for old ladies and decided to go in. But before I got out of the car, I really wanted to finish a pretzel that I purchased at Target for my “second breakfast.” So as I was sitting there, I realized that I was dressed in sweat clothes eating a pretzel in my car in front of Sears. The brutal reality forced me to do the only thing I could imagine doing at a moment like this–I texted my gorgeous, insanely cool, perfect-haired, immaculately dressed, photographer/model friend Amanda and told her. It was some form of self torture. I was hideous and I needed to revel in it and soak it up for what it was worth.
I marched into Sears AND JC Penny’s in my sloppy outfit clutching my pretzel and looked at rows of dowdy unattractive clothes. I went into maternity section after maternity section and soaked up all the horrific tops and pants and big bras. Determined to find a dress and just one or two freaking tops, I even went into Dilliards. That was the most humiliating and freeing thing of all. Dilliards contains expensive, small clothes purchased by pretty thin ladies who dress up to go shopping early in the morning. Lets be honest, its the "Macy's" of my lame small town. Now I was slouching around Dilliards looking like a janitor or somebody about to unload a gun on the place. I was especially mortified when I walked by all the makeup counter girls. If I was them, I totally would have judged me. But there was a small part of me that enjoyed this state of disrepair–not even one Kiosk boy called out to me to ask if he could ask me a question. I was ugly and living on Mars. It was both great and awful. But the thing I kept reminding myself of was that I HAD CHOSEN to dress this way. Am I on my way to becoming sloppy sweatpant mom?
They were probably afraid I was concealing a weapon instead of carrying a baby bump.
No.
I never found that dress or those tops. The only ones available looked like they belonged on an elderly woman at a senior citizen home. So I gave up on real maternity clothes and bought clothes from a teeny bopper store that seemed to work really well as faux maternity clothes. I’m not ready to surrender to Sears.
It’s humbling, and anything that humbles us is supposed to be good for us. Some women accept pregnancy changes very gracefully and I applaud them. I just don’t want to look like a frumpy weirdo while I learn to accept my expanding shape.
Oh, and while I was in the mall I walked by another pretzel shop while I was eating my first one and actually considered a second…
