I spent all of Thanksgiving weekend with my jeans unbuttoned. No, it wasn’t the turkey. I don’t even think it was my ever-blossoming perfecto embryo. I think it is all the extra food I’ve been eating for the past three weeks. (And maaaaaybe just a little bit of my uterus.)
I don’t like walking around pulling up and unbuttoning and re-buttoning my jeans. Especially when most people don’t know I’m pregnant and probably think I’m just full of cranberry sauce. So upon returning home, I made a bee-line for my pregnant friend’s apartment and demanded hand-me-down maternity pants. She obliged with a huge pile of jeans and kahkis.
Ok. Unlike women, these maternity pants come in three sizes, S, M and L. I am none of the above. I am tall, chicken-legged, with an ever-increasing waist line and buttocks region. (I just noticed my new butt in the mirror in my pre-natal yoga class on Sunday. What the?) The stretchy parts made room for my belly, but most of the size-medium pants were way too short. I looked like a twelve-year-old boy after a growth spurt. (A pregnant twelve-year-old boy.) Not only were they too short, but the crotch hung down half-way to my knees. I mean, really, people. You can’t bother to make your over-priced pants that I’m getting for free fit a woman?
Luckily, two pairs of pants were just a little short, acceptable with boots, I suppose. Two pairs of jeans actually fit. One of them actually had a size! My size!
And let me tell you… I did have to wear an extremely long shirt, which I proceeded to pull down over the huge elastic tummy band all day… but those pants were heaven. I was so comfortable. Aaaah. Perhaps I may actually spend some of my own money on some. In a few weeks. I love you stretchy belly band. I love you.