I feel like everyday that I look in the mirror I have to wrap my mind around what it is I am looking at. This body is constantly mutating while I sleep.
I got out of bed, went to the bathroom (let's just assume I do this little activity about 25 times a day), and went to my closet. Now my closet is pretty big, but you would think I own NOTHING when it comes to pregnancy apparel. I have refused to buy a whole lot with this pregnancy because everytime I go to the maternity store hoping to do the "let's fall in love with something" dance, in that itty bitty fitting room, I am mortified. I turn in to the biggest grouch ever, and normally leave empty handed, but with a horrible attitude about my body. Poor Den when he goes.....it's not pretty! I vow to never eat anything sweet again during this pregnancy and whine about how we NEVER go to the gym. He says very little, which is wise, because he is in a losing battle with "hormone woman"!
So I am standing in my vast closet spinning around hoping that something is hiding that will make me look like skinny Nicole Ritchie. However, to my disappointment, day after day, nothing appears. I have put on clothes that are baggy and moveable, but honestly it only makes me look and feel bigger than life. I try to squeeze on tops that were PRE-pregnancy but somehow the material refuses to cover my large bust and belly, and I am fighting the unsightly gaps while just quietly standing in the closet, (nevermind me actually doing any sort of activity in it). *sigh* Ohhhh how I miss the days where I went to bed one size and shape and got up the exact same size and shape. Maybe even a little lighter after no eating for several hours in a row.......oh how those days are a distant memory.....lol
I went to Target with Mary. She was purchasing a bunch of amazing clothes for her trip that is coming up, and I decided that I was going to buy a couple pairs of sweatpants. You know something to just lounge around in while I am doing housework. I giggled at the XL that I was about to purchase, and even held them up to Mary. I said "I'm just gonna do it", and "I dont care that they are big and will probably give me the option to fill them out even more in the days ahead." I declared that I just wanted something comfy to spend my remaining pregnancy days in. She was very supportive as I bought them.
I got home with my tightly fisted Target bag. I couldn't wait to peel off my maternity jeans, and to put on some soft, pliable, stretchy sweats. They were the kind that gather at the knee a little bit, so they were even a little sporty (in their own way). I excitedly told Den of my purchase and ran to put them on, obviously in hopes that I might look cute in them too. I went in to my downstairs bathroom, stripped down to my scivvys, and grabbed one of the sweats. I anxiously put one leg in, and then the other. Thankfully, my feet fit through the holes, because it wasn't as easy for the remaining parts of my body as the pair of sweats drew closer and closer to my rump. I fought those babies all the way to the top, and then I just stood there. That's right, I just stood there looking at myself in the mirror. First of all, they weren't cute. It looked like I had stripped my jeans, bought a can of gray spray paint, and did a little number on myself. The pants were so grotesquely tight that there wasn't much left to the imagination. I spun in a tight little circle, because I couldn't believe my eyes. I mean it wasn't but an hour earlier that I was giggling with Mary about my XL, and, now, here I was in my house, in my bathroom, unable to step out in front of my sons for fear that the sight of this pregnant woman would keep them from ever giving me grandchildren.
Eventually, I came to the mind that the sweats would have to be taken back. I quickly took them off, and I mean quickly. I knew how I felt after my maternity store episodes. Its like a toxic drug that it gets in to my system and it turns me into Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde, and Den, innocently, has to pay the price. So I stepped out of the bathroom and joined the crew that was in the family room. Den asked me how come I didn't have my comfy sweats on. I shot him a look that said, "Don't go there!" Trust me.....he didn't go there.....hahaha
Those pants found their way back in to the white and red Target bag, and back to the store before a blink of an eye. I have tried not to think about that moment and how it all went sour, but I have to admit that it creeps back in to my psychy every morning when I do the closet dance to start my day......
9 weeks to go girls!.............