Everybody’s got something to say about pregnancy right?
“Oh, this will be such a beautiful time in your life.”
“Oh, all that matters is that the baby is healthy.”
“Oh, you’re absolutely glowing!”
Haven’t heard that last one yet, but I’m still holding out for compliments. So far, I mostly look tired, confused and bloated… still waiting for the glow to kick in.
Nevertheless, what people FAIL to mention or even talk about it is underwear. You heard me. Underwear.
Right now, underwear is the demise of my entire life.
Yes, they make lots of pants and shirts and dresses for growing bellies… but what is harder to find? Underwear.
While I’m sure this is absolutely TMI, my comfy Victoria Secret Pink panties have turned into a tourniquet reminding me that it’s not just my mid section that’s growing… my rump is keeping up in this race to the due date, and some days I even think it’s winning.
Not only do my underwear no longer fit, but sometimes they roll down. I dare say there is nothing in the universe that makes you feel fatter than when something is so stretched it just gives up and rolls down in defeat. I am sorry for stretching you to your limit, cheeky pants, but you have one job and you’re failing me. You’re failing me really bad.
So I just thought the universe needed to know that pregnancy is about more than just the nausea and hormones and fatigue… it’s about the struggle. The struggle between rear-expansion and the fibers of my stretchy underwear that no longer have the will to survive.
And beyond that, there are so many shapes. So many, many shapes that are created from this weird hip-to-underwear ratio. I tried wearing leggings yesterday… that was cute. According to the mirror, I had three waist lines. Thanks for that, Hanes.
So until Cecilia decides to come in January, I suppose it will be time to purchase some of these…
If anyone between then and now invents “sexy pregnancy panties” I tip my hat to you, good fellow. Because that, friends, that.. that… is a scientific breakthrough. NASA, get on it.