I Meed Pants!

So, I'm 7 months pregnant, which has a whole slew of hilarious stories to go along with it, but today, we're going to talk about pants.  Specifically, my desperate need for, and inability to acquire, pants. Here's the deal...

If you have kids, you know that buying new clothes for yourself is not a priority. For me, that means my extremely limited wardrobe consists primarily of t-shirts I bought at Costco, four different colors of the same shirt I found at Kohl's, a sequined tank top I bought for a party once, a single 6-year-old dress for the occasional night out, a half dozen pairs of high heals that I haven't even touched since 2010, a pair of Chuck Taylors, and a pair of rubber boots (we do live in the country, in Washington state, the boots are unavoidable). I also have 3 pairs of jeans, and a drawer full of paint-spattered t-shirts and novelty t's (from that muddy 5K I ran last year) that are exclusively used for working outdoors or sleeping.

When I'm pregnant, this modest trousseau gets even sadder, I now have 6 maternity shirts (mostly donated by friends who actually bought maternity clothes), 4 gorgeous dresses that I will never wear (I say this is because they are summer dresses, but really it's because the friends I got them from are tiny, even when pregnant, and tiny is not a claim I can make, so they make my thighs look like I'm smuggling a couple of roasts out of Safeway), and the two pairs of pants I acquired during my first pregnancy. One of these is a pair of jeans, the other is a pair of corduroys that are about 2 inches too short and fall down all the damn time!!!

I'm content with this collection, as I have never been one to turn up my nose at donated duds, and I am, by no means, a fashion maven, so really, it's cool, except, two pairs of pants, just isn't enough. Especially if there's a particularly messy preschool day, or the Little Girl has a potty accident in my lap. If anything like that happens, and it's more than 2 days until laundry day, I'm screwed. Luckily, one of my friends had a baby 4 months ago, and she's been promising me her maternity stash since then!

Saweet!! There's got to be at least one or two pairs of pants in there, I can hold out!

(I know some of you are thinking, "why doesn't she just go buy some new pants??" I'm getting to that part)

So, my friend and I get together for a visit and she gives me a HUGE bag of clothes (this friend is a model, no, for reals, so I always assume that at least 30% of what she gives me is either way too small, or way too cool for me). In the bag is one precious pair of jeans, they're skinny jeans, and that makes me almost immediately break out in hives, but beggars can't be choosers and shit...right? I want to try them on right away (I'm wearing the crappy cords that day) but I wait until I get home (thank god!!). After getting Little Girl down for her nap, I waddle upstairs as fast as I can and whip out my new fancy preggo pants!

As I slip my legs in, I think,

"Dang, these are a little snug."

But they don't seem much worse than any pair of jeans fresh out of the dryer, so I soldier on, as I get them over my roasts...er...thighs, it becomes apparent that they are pretty darn snug, but I'm an optimist, so I press forward, then it happens. As I'm doing the squat (you know the, these jeans are a little tight, but I know they fit so let me just squat and pull to get them over the rump squat?) I hear the sound of a thousand 20 year old me's crying out in agony, the sound of all the "just a few" chocolate chips, the sound every woman dreads, but few actually hear...the RIP! That's right friends, I split the jeans. Not just a little "oops, I can sew that up in a jiffy" hole, we're talking an 8" whopper of a gaping maw right along the inside of my right thigh.

:-|

When my husband gets home, I hand him Little Girl, and a can of soup for dinner. I grab the keys, and head out the door. Time for some new pants. I avoided this up until now because I loathe spending money on clothes I'm literally going to wear for 6-8 weeks of my life...it pisses me off, but, desperate times.

First I hit Kohl's. (I love Kohl's, and never get to go because I'm a mom and I don't shop for myself) After walking around the store for a good 10 minutes, I finally ask where the maternity department is.

"I'm sorry, we got rid of the maternity department."
"You're kidding me."
"No, sorry, but we have that kiosk over there, you could order something online"
"But then I can't try it on."
"No, you can't, but you can return it here if it doesn't fit."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Thanks."

Ok, fine, Kohl's doesn't want my big-bellied-business, that's just fine, I'll try Fred Meyer.

Same damn story!!!!

Apparently, all the pregnant women have clothes now, so stores don't need to carry them. And no, ordering online is not an option, because things never look the same when you get them, and I have long legs and simply must try things on and damnit!!!.......

I walk around Fred Meyer crying for 10 minutes before I finally give up and drive home. (Give me a break, my brain is steeped in hormones and my pants keep falling down, you'd cry too)

Ok, that's fine, I can survive with two pairs of pants, it's only 6-8 more weeks, I can totally do this. Except, because I have to keep pulling the damn cords up, in the last week they have developed a "tug" hole right below the waist band, so if I'm not careful, my underwear (which I refuse to replace until after the baby is born) shows. So....one pair of pants is enough right??

I wonder if people would look at me funny if I just wore my husbands pajama pants everywhere.