miraculous maternity jeans
I haven’t really got a very noticable bump yet, but the beginnings of the bump have been interfering with the comfort of my clothes for about two months now. Maybe it’s because I started off so slim, but my regular pants stopped fitting about a month after I found out, and I’ve been living in sweats and one pair of brown cargos ever since. Today, while looking in my wardrobe for something to wear to the hairdressers, I stared down those brown cargos and the still-too-big maternity jeans loaned to me by my sister-in-law. If I had to wear those brown pants one more time I was going to throw up, and the maternity jeans just didn’t fit yet.
Now, maternity clothes in general are the fashion industry’s way of mocking women. According to the clothes available in the local “parenting” store, only very conservative 35-year old women with a taste for boxy cuts and floral prints get pregnant. Women who don’t mind elasticated panels that come to mid-hip peeking coyly out from beneath their shirts. Women who want to wear denim overalls when they are 8 months gone. The word “elephant” comes to mind when I imagine that great expanse of stonewashed denim. I was searching for basic, young, stylish clothes. Things that fit, and looked like clothes I would normally wear, only with the room or stretch to accomodate a bump. I don’t want to look like a harried mom-of-five-under-ten, and I certainly don’t want to look like a cupcake.
When I arrived at the hairdressers wearing the despised brown cargos, the girl at the counter told me my stylist was running a bit late, and would be able to see me in about 15 minutes. So off I went for a brief spin round the racks, and headed to a shop I’d heard carried reasonable maternity clothes. It was like the fable of buried treasure come true. I tried on a pair of jeans, and was delighted to see that I still had legs – after months of wearing sweats and those blasted cargos, I’d forgotten that I still had some parts of my body that weren’t balooning. They looked exactly like jeans I’d normally wear, except they were gloriously comfortable and cut so they could accomodate even more of a growing bump.
So, here I am, sitting on the couch in my miraculous maternity jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to find jeans I like, and that’s really saying something.
