Trying on clothes has always been a bit of an emotional experience for me. I've never really been that pleased with my personal appearance and have never tried something on and felt amazing. In fact, after we had been married for a while Blaine gave me the green light to buy ANY clothing I wanted no matter the cost, because that is how rare it was that I found something I actually liked.
Lately I've been feeling that I dress like a bruise, a pregnant bruise no less. Black shirt, dark blue maternity pants. Drab. Lifeless. Once in a while I would spice things up and wear khaki's, but that's about it. All of my black shirts combined with still wearing maternity clothes was really starting to weigh me down. It's hard to feel good about yourself when you've forgotten how to do up a zipper and button buttons. Wouldn't you agree that I am way too young to succumb to wearing elastic waste pants for the rest of my life?
So I had finally had it. Last week I was going out to buy clothing. Just some solid color t-shirts, but of the not black variety. I set out and went to three stores, THREE just trying to find a simple t-shirt that actually fit me. I hate trying on clothes but at each store I anxiously grabbed handfuls of shirts and tried them all on eagerly. My giant smile would always quickly fade as I saw the muffin top protruding. I shrugged off the disappointment and ran to the next store...surely, SURELY there would be something. It's not like I was trying to win a fashion prize, I just wanted one shirt to help me not look like dying flesh.
Tears started welling as I left the second store and headed to my third and final destination. Target. Surely a target t-shirt from the old hag section would fit. Plus, it wouldn't be a total wash, I had a rain check for some cheap carrots to get while I was there. Got my carrots and walked over to try on some shirts. I was feeling a little confident so I also picked up a swimming suit to try on.
Went to the dressing room and, wow. That swimming suit was the last straw. Couldn't really hold back the tears. Already somewhat of an emotional mess I went to the checkout and handed the lady my five bags of carrots.
Then I rummaged around for my rain check that I had had in my hand five minutes earlier. * rummage rummage * "oh, huh, it's got to be in here somewhere". * Frantic panic looking * "No, really, I just had it!". The store employee was not amused. And when I was sure that the rain check could not be found, I just couldn't take it any more. Big fat alligator tears.
And then more tears on top of that because I felt so stupid feeling sorry for myself over something as silly as clothing and overpriced carrots. Am I really that vain?
I found Blaine at home all big eyed and anxious to see my new attire. It certainly must be no fun being married to the bruise lady.
He stopped halfway through his sentence.."I can't wait to see a fashion showwwwwohhh shoot, are you okay?"
Tears, wailing, gnashing of teeth and ripping of maternity panels.
Then Blaine had an epiphany. "Maybe," he said as carefully as if he were walking barefoot on broken glass, "maybe the reason you can't find anything is..."
"BECAUSE I'M FAT" I wailed
"No, maybe it is because you aren't willing to spend more than four dollars on a shirt. Maybe if you went to a nice store and didn't look at the price tag, maybe you could find something you like"
Pick your jaws up off of the floor ladies, he's all mine!
So the next day with renewed spirits I walked in to a newly opened Maurice's. I didn't look at price tags (well, I did but tried to not think about it). It was so amazing, I found many many shirts and pants that fit me well! No muffin top, no shirts stretched to the point of ripping! Buttons and zippers and colors!
I knew it would be expensive but it was worth it. I deserved it. Anyone who has identical twins born 16 months apart deserves a shopping spree. I can do this. Just don't think about it, hand over the credit card, we'll find a way to pay for it.
"That will be TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY DOLLARS"
"Uh...I'm going to have to put some of this back" I explained as I tried to restrain myself from vomiting on the counter top.
I put back most of the things but still wound up with several really cute shirts. I was thrilled!
The next day, in an attempt to get some non-maternity pants, I hit up Kohl's Memorial Day sale.
I tend to gravitate to the junior's section, after all, I am not really in to sequins and stuff.
Tears. I tried on pants that were two sizes bigger than my fat pants and I couldn't get the dang buttons to do up, my muffin top was THAT bad.
After an hour of trying to cram myself into Juniors clothes I reluctantly meandered over to the fuddy-dud section (ie "womens"). I found some that didn't look too ridiculous and as I was trying them on I saw a tag pop out that said something about "secret slimming panels".
Secret, slimming panels? Seriously? Praise you fuddy-duds, praise you!
I started out trying on the size that is two sizes bigger than my fat pants and...voila! They were huge, ginormous! I went back and wound up getting the capris that were a size smaller than my fat pants and, thanks to my secret slimming panels and regular waist height (as opposed to "ultra-super-ridiculously low rise" in the juniors section), there is no muffin top! Non!
And the moral of the story is that as much as I don't like to think of myself as a fuddy-dud, having three kids was my one-way ticket into that club.
But the fuddies are really on to something with those secretly slimming panels and now I am embracing my inner (or should I say outer?) fuddydudness. Seriously, if childbirth has left you down and out (pun intended), go check them out. Just shoot me if I ever start wearing sequins and embroidered sweaters before I am 50, no no, make that 80.