Yet for want of a title
Posted November 21, 2008on:
This post is still being written. Because its been a week since the earth opened and swallowed me up. At least that’s what it felt like.
I’ve been working late nights, assigned other duties at work, working a contract (which thankfully a friend took over for me for a couple of weeks or I might have died), and have I mentioned I’m pregnant and not entirely enjoying it?
As for that last post where I said I don’t like being pregnant, I was talking to some coworkers about it and it hit me, “Hey, maybe I haven’t had time to enjoy it!”
And then the week from hell hit with an extra thing the universe decided to throw my way (and no, I’m not talking about it here) which resulted in me being extra cranky and tired so I took today off.
I finished an assignment then I went shopping, because really? I deserve it after this week. And my pants don’t fit so well any more – the belly bands are just not cutting it anymore.
I went to the mall and wandered aroud The Bay a bit. Couldn’t for the life of me, find the maternity wear. Its entirely possible they don’t have maternity wear. I looked in the plus size section and what is it with clothing designers who think plus sized women would want to wear massive flowered things? So I went out to the mall proper and hit Motherhood.
Now anyone who has been shopping with me knows I hate talking to salespeople with the fire of a thousand suns. Most of the time, they try to sell me something I don’t want.
But I walked into Motherhood and was promptly overwhelmed. I mean, promptly. They had all these pants with the extra belly band on the top and various tops and bras and underwear and then my brain exploded all over the store because I have no idea how to size these things.
Not really. But a little salesgirl came up to me and said, “Hi! Have you been shopping here before? No, well welcome!” And I nearly ran out. The salesgirl looked at me and said, “What do you need?” and I nearly burst into tears.
“I am in desperate need of some pants, please,” I said.
Within about half a second she’d piled three pairs of pants into a changeroom and shooed me inside. Then she brought me a tank, three more pairs of pants (in a different style) and two pairs of jeans and two tops. “The pillow on the wall adds 3 months,” she said. “And my name’s Johanna, so if you need anything just call.”
I ended up with two pairs of pants, a pair of jeans, two tops, a tank and 7 pairs of underwear. And $250 gone from my bank account.
And those jeans? Are The Most Comfortable Jeans ever.
I now realize my vile mood has been caused, in part, by being uncomfortable in my clothes for the last couple of weeks.
The rule has always been, “Wear clothes that fit.” The rule hasn’t changed.
Maybe now I can start enjoying this.