Now that I’m well into the last trimester of my pregnancy with about two weeks to go before I’m supposed to push out a baby (it feels like ripping off a band-aid, right?!), wearing attire that doesn’t solely consist of pajamas is getting more and more difficult.
My lovely baby is thriving in my belly which means I’m constantly devoid of energy and my ass has more blubber than I’ve ever seen in my life – although I’m not sure it’s fair to blame an innocent child for my big butt when the cause may be the box of chocolates that’s permanently attached to my hand.
As you may have read from my previous post, I am officially a first-time pregnant woman watching my belly stretch and expand each day. However, for some who don’t know any better, this has also been misconstrued as, “Wow, you’ve really gained a lot of weight since you’ve been married!”
There seems to be a very specific look that people associate with pregnancy. This isn’t made easy when your body is still transitioning through all the stages of carrying a child. It’s not like you conceive and automatically wake up with a visible and perfectly formed bump – it takes a while for your stomach to shape itself into what is recognized as “pregnant”.
All good rebels know that there are certain rules for dressing if you want to make it out of the house without a fight, and avoid hearing your mom bemoan what she did in her previous life to make you turn out this way.
This may pose interesting challenges when it comes to defining your personal style. But, don’t hide your “real” clothes in the bushes outside your home just yet! In this series, we’ll explore some of these seemingly outdated rules and ways to overcome them.
Although I spend most hot days sunning myself aboard my luxury yacht while dictating these words to my personal manservant, lately this summer of our discontent has caused me to lose every fight with “giving a damn about anything”. Completing arduous tasks like napping, sitting upright and breathing has been no easy feat.
The blistering weather has created thoughts in my brain that make as much sense as bucket candle monkey paper banana monocle… and perhaps even led me to be delusional enough to believe that I have a luxury yacht or personal manservant for that matter.