Jean pool
Here we are at 30 weeks pregnant, just minding our own business, WeeBey and I. Not really believing that in two months, yes TWO MONTHS, I will have another newborn. While I complain all the time about not being ready, I can tell you I am absolutely ready to never wear maternity pants again.
Just like my two previous pregnancies, my belly measures about two weeks behind and I am carrying pretty low. That means I don't look huge and while I feel huge, I get dirty looks for complaining about not being able to bend over and tie my shoes anymore. What might look like a cute bump to most people feels like a beer keg shoved between my rib cage and my pelvic bone. Sure, you might not know I am pregnant when you see me from behind, but damn, I feel like I am having sextuplets.
Part of the problem with my comfort lies in my choice of maternity pants. I refuse to dress like a slob when I am pregnant and try to at least look presentable when leaving the house. I might not shower, but by god, I will have on jeans instead of yoga pants. I know some people might question the purchase of designer maternity jeans, considering you don't wear them for more than six months, but for me, they are the staple of my pregnancy wardrobe and worth every penny.
My Seven For All Mankind jeans were a gift during my first pregnancy. I didn't wear them often because I was on bedrest, but they were my go-to for most doctor appointment outings and had favored pants status until someone (who shall remain nameless but rhymes with Yosh) accidentally put them in the dryer. Then my favorite maternity jeans became my least-favorite torture device because they were entirely too tight. Coupled with their extremely low-rise profile, it was not a pretty picture. With my second pregnancy, I was a little thinner overall, so they fit better and I almost wore them out. I even had to have the elastic band fixed at the tailor. This time around, the Sevens are splitting time in the rotation with my new Citizens of Humanity jeans. Now that fall has descended upon the Windy City, I can't wear shorts anymore, so I threw a pair of khaki cargo pants into the mix and end up doing a lot of laundry.
But both pairs of jeans have a fatal flaw: the denim portion of the jeans cuts into my belly just above the pubic bone. This doesn't present a problem when I am standing, but if I sit down for any length of time, all hell breaks loose. As an added bonus, I can't sit down in my Sevens at all unless I am wearing an extremely long shirt because I will display a generous portion of my ass crack to the entire world. And if there's one thing this world doesn't need more of, it's a view of my pregnant ass crack.
But I soldier on, wearing these jeans day in and day out because I am a slave to fashion and for the love of chocolate shakes with whipped cream on them, I will look good while pregnant. I ignore the belly tightening and intense cramps in my side when I get up, I ignore the angry red indentations in my lower belly.
The one thing I can't ignore is the way I have to hike my pants up every 30 seconds. All. Day. Long. It has nothing to do with the type of belly panel, because the Citizens are a full panel and the Sevens are a below-the-belly panel. It's just a fact of life that with a undulating beach ball in your pants, they're not going to stay up. And let me tell you how attractive it is to watch an almost eight-months-pregnant woman hike her pants up. I think I caused blindness in an unsuspecting dad at the park this weekend. Poor guy never saw that expanse of ass-pale belly coming.
I can't wait until I come home from the hospital and can once again don a pair of pants with a real zipper and snap. Sure, yanking your pants down with ease when you have to pee 27 times a day is convenient, but it's way overrated.
Just like my two previous pregnancies, my belly measures about two weeks behind and I am carrying pretty low. That means I don't look huge and while I feel huge, I get dirty looks for complaining about not being able to bend over and tie my shoes anymore. What might look like a cute bump to most people feels like a beer keg shoved between my rib cage and my pelvic bone. Sure, you might not know I am pregnant when you see me from behind, but damn, I feel like I am having sextuplets.
Part of the problem with my comfort lies in my choice of maternity pants. I refuse to dress like a slob when I am pregnant and try to at least look presentable when leaving the house. I might not shower, but by god, I will have on jeans instead of yoga pants. I know some people might question the purchase of designer maternity jeans, considering you don't wear them for more than six months, but for me, they are the staple of my pregnancy wardrobe and worth every penny.
My Seven For All Mankind jeans were a gift during my first pregnancy. I didn't wear them often because I was on bedrest, but they were my go-to for most doctor appointment outings and had favored pants status until someone (who shall remain nameless but rhymes with Yosh) accidentally put them in the dryer. Then my favorite maternity jeans became my least-favorite torture device because they were entirely too tight. Coupled with their extremely low-rise profile, it was not a pretty picture. With my second pregnancy, I was a little thinner overall, so they fit better and I almost wore them out. I even had to have the elastic band fixed at the tailor. This time around, the Sevens are splitting time in the rotation with my new Citizens of Humanity jeans. Now that fall has descended upon the Windy City, I can't wear shorts anymore, so I threw a pair of khaki cargo pants into the mix and end up doing a lot of laundry.
But both pairs of jeans have a fatal flaw: the denim portion of the jeans cuts into my belly just above the pubic bone. This doesn't present a problem when I am standing, but if I sit down for any length of time, all hell breaks loose. As an added bonus, I can't sit down in my Sevens at all unless I am wearing an extremely long shirt because I will display a generous portion of my ass crack to the entire world. And if there's one thing this world doesn't need more of, it's a view of my pregnant ass crack.
But I soldier on, wearing these jeans day in and day out because I am a slave to fashion and for the love of chocolate shakes with whipped cream on them, I will look good while pregnant. I ignore the belly tightening and intense cramps in my side when I get up, I ignore the angry red indentations in my lower belly.
The one thing I can't ignore is the way I have to hike my pants up every 30 seconds. All. Day. Long. It has nothing to do with the type of belly panel, because the Citizens are a full panel and the Sevens are a below-the-belly panel. It's just a fact of life that with a undulating beach ball in your pants, they're not going to stay up. And let me tell you how attractive it is to watch an almost eight-months-pregnant woman hike her pants up. I think I caused blindness in an unsuspecting dad at the park this weekend. Poor guy never saw that expanse of ass-pale belly coming.
I can't wait until I come home from the hospital and can once again don a pair of pants with a real zipper and snap. Sure, yanking your pants down with ease when you have to pee 27 times a day is convenient, but it's way overrated.
Labels: Pregnancy
posted by Amy at
8:04 PM
4 Comments:
If I ever get pregnant, i think everyone (including the co-workers), will just have to deal with my Drake sweats and exercise pants.
thank you for shedding some light on the scourge that is gravity and the maternity pant. Half band, full belly band, no band, whatever - that shit don't stay up. I want to see some tabloid shots of pregnant celebrities hiking up their britches instead of always looking so cute and perfectly outfitted. THAT IS A LIE! the final two months of my pregnancy I got myself a jersey overall jumper that I wore everyday (never out of the house, but there was 5 feet of snow so who's leaving the house?). yes, i looked like an oompa loompa walked around with my giant basketball belly in my ridiculous grown up onesie, but i didn't have to deal with my pants falling down constantly, or the seams digging into me when I sat down or any of it. It was bliss. And if I ever do it again I think I will go full on mumu. in the only - in public, I'm a slave for fashion too. Maybe we should market maternity suspenders?
*sigh* the sacrifices we make. But it's all worth it to have to hike your pants up 27 times a day right?
Hilarious! My 3rd (and last) child is 8 weeks old, so maternity pants are fresh in my mind (shudder). I joyously tossed those in the good will bag as soon as I was able to squeeze into my "fat jeans".
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