Today I went into my first maternity clothing store to buy pants. I have been able to put this off up until now because of a very dear friend who has not only offered me advice and support but an entire wardrobe of maternity clothes. However, I'm having the same problem with maternity pants that I have with regular pants: they are always too short. So I hunted down a store that carried maternity pants for tall people and off I went this morning.
At our mall, all of the maternity shops are gathered into one shop and aptly called Destination Maternity. The person in charge of store location in our mall must have a cruel and twisted sense of humor, because Destination Maternity was located right next store to Victoria Secret.
The moment I walked inside, I was shocked to see that the sales people were not pregnant ladies. The moment after I had that thought I realized what a bizarre and irrational expectation that was. Of course the store was not staffed by pregnant people--can you imagine the hormonal cat fights that would ensue in a store where only pregnant women worked? Or the scheduling nightmare, working around doctor appointments and morning sickness?
The sales woman that noticed me first was small, skinny and slightly smug looking. She cornered me immediately and overwhelmed me with whatever perfume she was wearing. I answered her questions as best I could without inhaling too often: I was in my fifth month, first pregnancy, looking for pants, having a boy. No, I wasn't currently working so I didn't need to look at suits, skirts, or anything tweed. Just the pants, please.
Skinny and Smug led me around the store, starting with the $350 pair of designer pregnancy jeans (who pays that kind of money for pants you can wear for four months, tops?) and we eventually got to a section of the store where the clothes were a little more reasonably priced. I picked out a few pairs of pants and was led to a dressing room, closed the curtain quickly and took a deep breath of fresh air.
Despite the fact that I had said (over and over) that I was only looking for pants, several tops, dresses and even a bathing suit had been slipped into my room. I had just gotten on a pair of pants when she-who-swims-in-perfume burst in with a pillow contraption. She told me that I was sooo tiny for five months along that she wanted me to see what I would look like later. She strapped the imitation pregnant belly around my waist, snapped the paneling of the maternity pants, and yanked my t-shirt down over it.
"This is our seven month size," she said, then left me to stare at the bulging mound she had created for me. Seven months? That is only a month and a half away, and the fake belly made me HUGE. When would I have time to gain all that weight? Does it happen suddenly, like the first 5-10 pounds? Am I just going to wake up one day and look like I'm shoplifting a watermelon under my shirt?
Suddenly my hyperventilating was not caused by the fact that the sales lady smelled like she lived at the cosmetic counter at Macy's. I yanked off the fake belly and patted the significantly smaller bulge that is baby boy, and told him mentally that he should grow at whatever rate he wanted, and mommy promises not to freak out again if he needed to put on all his weight in a 24-hour period. I explained to him that seeing the fake belly stuffed under my normal sized t-shirt was exciting but extremely overwhelming, and since his daddy was not around to calm mommy down and she had to drive home by herself, it was better that we didn't get too worked up.
I made quick work of the other clothes I wanted to try on, even with the interruptions from the staff, and escaped out to my car with two new pairs of pants that will fit through the rest of my pregnancy, no matter when (or at what speed) our little guy decides to grow.
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