Last year, while on a girls weekend trip, my roomie and I were lounging in bed one morning, regretting our overindulgence of the night before. “I need someone to bring me an ice cold diet coke from the vending machine,” she moaned. To which I replied sincerely, “I’d go, but I’m not wearing any pants.” Which for some reason, we found HI-larious (probably still drunk from the night before).
And thus it became a thing for the weekend. Up by the pool and you forgot your sunscreen in the room? I would…but, no pants. Getting ready and can’t find your mascara? Sorry, no pants over here. (Okay, you’ll just have to take my word for it; it was funny at the time.)
Anyway, today I discovered that the state of not having any pants is NOT a laughing matter. Over the past week or so, my stretch twill pants have one by one joined the discard pile as now not only will they no longer button, they will no longer zip. That is a shortcoming that not even the bella band can camouflage. No matter, I thought, I have several pairs of dress pants in a size, uh, schmelve, bought in bulk when I was a bit heavier.
Since last spring, they’ve mostly stayed up through the grace of my hips and a few well placed safety pins. A couple weeks ago, the safety pins were retired. This morning? Can’t hook or button them regularly. At least I can still zip and jerry-rig one of the hooks onto the button hole, then hide the evidence with a long shirt or bella band. However, if these pants follow the pattern of my other ones, I’ll only be able to get away with this for another couple of weeks. I was really counting on these pants to take me through at least another month, when I’ll be going home and raiding a friend’s maternity clothes stash.
I just have to keep reminding myself…this is a good thing…this is what I signed up for…there is a (not so wee anymore) baby growing in there…