HI. My name is Kristy and I’m a recovering maternity jeans addict. I still have days where I struggle to remain strong and JUST SAY NO to my beloved, perfectly worn, outrageously comfortable, belly paneled jeans. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that the whole wide world can’t wear maternity pants forever and ever. I mean, even my husband wants in on the maternity jeans phenomenon- he won’t admit it, but I know it’s true.
Let’s back track. I found out I was pregnant at six weeks, four days. By approximately eight weeks, I was “totally showing” (all a newly pregnant girl wants to hear is that she actually looks pregnant and not just bloated). Looking back, I can mock myself thinking I was showing; if I only knew that 9 months from then I would be so big that I’d willing lie and say I was expecting twins.
8 Weeks. "Totally Showing". Obviously.
Like 100 weeks. "Not that big, right?"
So, by 8 weeks, it was time to go buy my first pair of maternity jeans to make room for my chocolate sprinkle sized baby and loads of gas. I was eager, to say the least. My new jeans and I were a match made in heaven. There was so much stretch in the material that I could practically jazzercise in them. Don’t even get me started on the beauty of the lack of zippers and buttons- what more could a constantly peeing pregnant mother-to-be ask for? I distinctly remember telling my husband that I would be wearing these jeans for all of eternity, whether I was pregnant or not.
Here I am, 9 months after birthing that sweet creature, having stayed loyal to wearing my maternity pants. My wee baby has been out in this world ALMOST as long as he was growing in my uterus garden (If only I had the pleasure of saying he lived rent free in there for 9 months…he was more of a 42 week stay tenant) and the time has come. The time has come for me to break up with my life changing maternity jeans.
Don’t get me wrong. I have tried to squeeze back in to my pre-pregnancy pants. I suppose I should have known that my hips.would.grow.so.wide.and.will.never.return.oh.my.gosh.it’s.so.sad.they.are.so.wide.
Plus, I’ll be the first to admit that breastfeeding hasn’t really come through on the promise of making me super model skinny like I was counting on. Losing that last 10.8 pounds hasn’t been as easy as I planned. But, even those last little pounds can’t hold up my favorite maternity jeans anymore. I’m too young for droopy drawers and I’m pretty sure the baby is getting embarrassed with the little dance I have to do to yank my belly panel up to my boobies to get the darn pants to stay up.
After coming to terms with the sad fact that the eternal love affair I held with my maternity jeans was about to register irreconcilable differences, the search was on to find something to cover my arse that was actually considered appropriate for public wear. Meaning, I think people are on to my trick of slapping on my running shoes while wearing black yoga pants and a loose fitting t-shirt as to pretend I was sweating my life away at the gym, instead of just breaking a sweat trying to put a diaper on the baby.
I won’t lie to you. Shopping for real people pants was not fun and I consumed more Skinny Girl Margaritas than most do at 10am, but I pushed forward. After a month of searching, I finally found a pair that met the challenge. They work with my new mom hips and cover my post baby belly pooch. I confess that I cut the size tag out right away….before I even got to the cash register, really; because, let’s be real-zippers and buttons to deal with was going to be stressful enough without having to think about the double digit size being all up in my business too.
Day one of wearing my new jeans was epic. I came down the stairs like a teenage girl showing off her prom dress, there was a definite spring in my step. My husband couldn’t take his eyes off my derrière, and I walked around like Kristin Stewart didn’t have a thing on me (Robert Pattinson, here I come).
Recovery is all about honesty, so I’ll confess just a few more things. I peed on myself just a little when I rushed to the bathroom and forgot how to get out of the pants that I was trapped in- pulling an elastic panel up and down was SO much easier. Lastly, these words did come out of my mouth: “My peekacho feels confined. It’s like she’s suffocated in these pants”, to which my husband reminded me that that is exactly how it is supposed to feel when you wear pants that actually fit.
All in all, my heart is still a little torn over the break up with my maternity jeans. I keep them nicely folded and ready in my closet in case we decide to reunite. Actually, I won’t deceive you, if you see me in the next month or so, there is a 50% chance I will still be wearing an elastic waistband pant hiding under my shirt, because, breaking up is hard to do. However, I am dedicated to making my new fancy pants work. Although I’m scared to fully commit to a new relationship with pants that button, time will let our love blossom, and I know I can live happily ever after in them….but, I look forward to being pregnant again so I can divulge in yet another love affair with maternity jeans.
Stretchy Pants Forever,
Kristy
