Today I was in Old Navy looking for some long sleeve shirts to fit over my growing belly. As I was perusing the maternity aisle looking at cozy sweaters and holiday apparel there a misplaced item of clothing hung on the hanger. And if this article of clothing had a face I’m sure it would be laughing at me. I could feel the extra small denim mini-skirt staring at my hippo sized preggo body judging me and saying, “Honey child you will never be able to wear me.” No matter the encouraging words I hear from friends and co-workers about how cute my belly is I can’t help but feel like a lard-butt. And whoever you are who decided to ditch your teeny tiny skirt in the maternity aisle definitely wasn’t thinking of my hormonal/emotional/irrational pregnant issues.
Don’t worry about me I think I will be fine I’m heading for the freezer to eat some ice cream.
(I told Adam my story and he told me I should have taken a pair of maternity jeans and placed them next to the hussy clothing so the preggo jeans could judge the mini-skirts to say, “Honey child if you keep wearing those short skirts I will be your new pair of jeans soon.”)