Written by: Suzanna May 19 2011 A few weeks back, […]
A few weeks back, I mentioned that I was down to a single pair of capris and a couple shirts that I could still squeeze into. On the plus side, it made deciding what to wear a near no-brainer. On the downside, I think people were beginning to wonder if I ever actually changed my clothes. At one point, my husband remarked as nonchalantly and with as little disgust as possible that I had been wearing the same shirt five days in a row.
Yikes. Without realizing it, I had reverted to my ten-year-old self, who saw no reason to put on a new outfit unless it was church day. Despite that revelation, I still didn’t want to bite the pregnancy wardrobe bullet. While I like shopping as much as the next girl, investing in new clothes that I could only wear for the next four months didn’t appeal to my cheap—er, financially-savvy—self.
Thankfully, my husband values my cleanliness (and the well-being of his olfactory senses) more than he values money, so after my 21-week appointment with my midwife last week, he insisted that we celebrate my not crying (much) during my pap smear with a new wardrobe.
We headed to Kohl’s, and after browsing for a few minutes, I found two things that I didn’t think would highlight my growing resemblance to Bessy the Cow. I slipped on a pair of capris, and just at that moment, the heavens opened up and a choir of angels broke forth in the Hallelujah Chorus. Or, at least that’s how glorious the moment felt. For the first time in weeks, I could breathe while still clothed! Up until then, I had been using hair ties looped through the hole and around the button of my pants to keep them closed, which worked great except for giving me a constant sensation of having a boa constrictor wrapped around my middle.
I was thrilled to find a new pair of well-fitting pants and a cute top, but I knew one outfit wasn’t enough to catapult me out of my ten-year-old-self mode. So, after exiting the dressing room, I gave my husband my best puppy dog eyes (an absolute necessity when shopping with a man) and asked him if we could take “just one more” look. What ensued was very similar to what happens when a child asks you to read his favorite book “just one more” time—it turns into a never-ending saga. But, in this case, instead of ending up with a sore throat, I ended up with a whole new wardrobe. (One of the perks of pregnancy versus motherhood, I suppose.)
We also ended up with a bank account that was $115 lower, but even my cheap—um, money-conscious—self was okay with that after totaling up my savings and realizing that I had saved twice as much as I had spent. (A $60 pair of jeans for $8? Score!) And, even if I had paid full price for everything, my renewed freedom to breathe—and the opportunity to squelch an doubts about whether or not I ever change my clothes—would have been worth every penny.