...I've been feeling this horrible pain in my stomach lately. Love's lost or past regrets? Neither. My jeans. While I'm not exactly at that stage in the pregnancy where I've got the big belly, I'm just at the 'my pants are a wee bit too tight mode.' Unbuttoning them in the car was always an option, but when I gave up whatever dignity I had and did it in class today, I decided enough was enough.
I went to the store, not knowing what to expect. I'd seen maternity jeans, but had never put them on. I have a pair at home, that were passed down from my sister. They are designed so that the whole thing goes up and over your belly with a cotton panel and drawstring to keep the whole thing in place. In three more months, these jeans will be what I wear night and day, but for the moment, I need something a little different.
So, I grab the first pair, and begin the examination. The wash is downright fashionable without being too trendy, the pockets look about right, I like the cut of the leg, and the 4-inch wide elastic waistband is both intriguing and ingeniously colored so as not to be noticable.
I grab a pair in my current size, and in the next size up. Hey, who know how large this Czech ass will become? I go off to the dressing room, to meet my destiny.
Oh, what joyous events unfolded. I slip ever so slowly into the pair in my current size. They fit beautifully. Better than beautifully. Jeans have never made me feel so lovely, not even my ridiculously expensive Lucky's or Seven for all Mankind's. I do some squats to test their stretchiness. I do some high-kicks. I could a couple of Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks to an imaginary attacker. At this point, satisfied my jeans will move ever which way, I stop because it's just depressing to see myself doing roundhouse kicks and not-so-high kicks, especially after this weekend's marathon "Making the Team" where really, really skinny women try to become Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. (By the way, did anyone see the girl, who not only thought Condoleeza Rice was a man, and called her Condoleeza Jones, she said she didn't know who she wanted for the next pres, cause she was so happy with our current one? Yikes!) I could squeeze a family of four in there, and still look stylish. The elastic waistband sits ever so comfortably right underneath the "bump and beer" I have, the pooch I have that's equal parts baby and the many, many, many lagers, hefeweizens and ales I consumed before I knew this seamonkey was coming. I can stretch out the ass, stretch out the belly, I'm golden. Just in case, I try on the next size up. Luckily for me and everyone here, I'm swimming in them, no way would they ever fit.
I grab a few new shirts to go with, some actual maternity tees, that look like everything else in the world, except they say 'Mom-To-Be' on the label and some organic stretch mark cream and belly oil, and I'm off to the races.
Who knew that an elastic waistband, could make one woman so happy? So my advice to you, go get some maternity jeans, even if you aren't pregnant. If they increase the happini like I think they will, well then, Mister, I'll have created Utopia.
(First published: October 1, 2007)
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