As I am a female it should come as no surprise to you that shopping is like breathing for me; it must occur in order for me to survive. I thrive off of shopping as it fulfills my soul in ways other things can’t. I take great pleasure in searching for just the right shoe (boots, heels, flats, you name it, I don’t discriminate) and Lord help me when a purse comes along that I don’t have (to be honest, every lady needs a ruffle purse in a neutral tone. It’s classy and smart because it goes with everything...and no, that line doesn’t work well with the husband). Shopping is also a source of stress release for me. I might not even realize I’m feeling stressed until I get an overwhelming urge to spend money. When the urge hits and I realize I’m stressed I head out to my tried and true pick-me-uppers and later, after a few hours of browsing and debit card abuse, it’s like a weight has been lifted.
I have not, however, ever been stressed-out about actually going shopping (Christmas shopping doesn’t count). That changed yesterday when it became apparent that I was in dire need of maternity pants for work. I still don't have a discernable bump and my fat girl pants still fit, though they are getting rather snug. It will only be a matter of a week or two before maternity pants are a must. I’d already bought two pairs of jeans online, and sent them both back, so it seemed the only logical thing to do would be to physically go to a store. After a few hours of moping around the house, and unsuccessful attempts to try and guilt-trip the husband into going with me (even though I knew he would much rather be watching a football game with buddies), I finally managed to make it out of the house. As I got in the car tears welled up in my eyes. The typical pre-shop high was definitely missing. To try and soothe my mind I stopped at Yankee Candle. They were having a 50% off sale and I just knew my favorite scent would be on sale (Macintosh Spice, in case you’re curious). Indeed they had my scent on sale and then some! It goes without saying that Yankee Candle helped fight back the tears.
I made my way to the mall and parked and as I walked into the mall it occurred to me that maybe today was not such a great day for shopping at all. A million children and their parents had also gone to the mall for Halloween festivities. If one thing makes going to the mall an even more exciting occasion it’s a million clueless parents and their equally clueless children not paying any attention to anything other than themselves. I walked as quickly as possible and in an attempt to get out of the crowds, and delay what was to come, I headed into NY & Co. Admittedly, if one is to be pregnant now is a great time. Tunics and leggings are all the rage and to be perfectly honest, if I could wear that same exact outfit every single day for the next 5 months I would. In the end, and since I had a coupon thus deeming it irresponsible to not use it, I purchased a few tops that will hopefully make it through the pregnancy.
Finally, the inevitable was upon me. I made my way through the throngs of trick-or-treaters and walked into Motherhood Maternity. I didn’t immediately burst into tears as I suspected I might and my heart didn’t give out as I walked-in. In fact, my newly self-diagnosed anxiety-induced asthma didn’t act up. It was a very normal experience walking in. The sales rep pointed me in the direction of the work appropriate pants and gave me some quick advice on what was what and left me to it. I grabbed four pairs of pants and went into the dressing room which seemed to me to be a joke. Their location alone wasn’t very private (no separate hallway off the store) and of all things the only “door” offered is a heavy curtain that in no way latches shut. I suppose when they say that by the end of a pregnancy you’ve lost all sense of modesty they really mean it…and Motherhood Maternity is banking on that. Naturally, the curtain doesn’t work very well especially when the only other woman who is in the store with her brood of 5 isn’t paying much attention as her young daughter throws back all of the dressing room curtains, including mine. She was busy chit-chatting with the sales rep so it’s cool; I totally get it. Mommy time is mommy time after all. Everyone else can watch her kids.
In the end I walked out of the store with three new pairs of pants. They all fit relatively well and other than the giant panel of stretchy material where my belly is they look normal. As I left I asked the sales rep if there were any other stores that carried a maternity line. She mentioned Target and Kohl’s. To applaud myself for a job well done I ended up going to Target to see what they had. Maybe she misunderstood me when I asked about maternity lines. I must have needed to be more specific and asked if there are any other stores that carried more than one rack of maternity clothing. OK. Maybe I'm being mean. They had about 4 racks of maternity clothing. Not exactly a large selection. As much as I love Target their giant red sign that reads “maternity” is horribly deceiving. Also, might I add, placing the maternity “line” next to the plus size clothing does not help a pregnant woman’s already struggling body image issues. And yes, I know, a pregnant woman is gaining weight because she’s pregnant so she shouldn’t have the same body issues a woman who struggles with her weight on a daily basis does. In short, that’s just not true. Besides, product placement is important and placing maternity clothing next to plus sized clothing is what’s called “poor product placement.” One can even reverse my argument by saying that a woman who needs plus size clothing doesn’t want to inadvertently pick-up a piece of maternity clothing thus making her feel worse about herself. It works both ways.
Well, as you can tell maternity clothing is quite a matter of contention with me right now. In the end I’m still not sure if I’m ever going to enjoy wearing these clothes. I’m sitting here right now in a pair of my new pants and while I can say that I’m more comfortable than I’ve been for a few weeks I’m constantly reminded of the fact they are maternity pants. It could be the giant panel of fabric that reaches just shy of my breasts. Or maybe it’s the “diaper butt,” bunched-up waist. I can’t quite put my finger on just one hideous aspect. What I do know is the house is probably going to be smelling and looking* a lot nicer since those items don’t have a “maternity” label on them.
*P.S. I may have neglected to mention my jaunt through the Target home goods section followed by a trip to Pier One. What? I had a coupon for 20% off!
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