Anyone get the Jennifer Love Hewitt, I Know What You Did Last Summer reference? No? Okay, well, that’s not what this post is about anyway.
As I’m nearing the end of this pregnancy (gasp!), I’ve started to get questions about what I’ve missed the most over the last eight months or so.
The other night, someone, who clearly doesn’t know me very well, asked if I’d missed alcohol. I am looking forward to a nice post-delivery glass of white wine—over sushi, of course—but drinking in general has never had a big draw for me. Plus, I think the only way my smell buds (taste buds in your nose?) have intensified is in their sensitivity towards wine. I’ve been getting more of a flavor experience out of smelling wine these past few months than I used to get from sipping a glass. Or maybe this just means John’s been drinking better wine lately. . . .
What I am looking forward to is wearing a real pair of jeans. Perhaps this goal is a little farther off than that glass of wine, but I’m certainly more excited about it, and not just for the body image factor.
When I first went shopping for maternity clothes, I found an awesome pair of jeans. They were just my size, even petite, and fit me perfectly right off the bat. They have continued to fit as I grew, and for a long time I was convinced that I would wear them forever. The big (and hidden) elastic waistband was so darn comfortable, I couldn’t ever see myself going back to “normal people jeans.”
However. I didn’t anticipate the fact that this baby is due to arrive about the same time as autumn—one of the very best times of year for wardrobe-switching.
I’ve always lived in a place that experiences all four seasons—often with winter seeming to take up a good two-thirds of the year—and I always look forward to summer and warm breezes on the beach. But my love for sweaters is strong, and every year I get to a place where I can’t wait to wear jeans again, to layer a t-shirt and a cardigan and enjoy a slightly chiller temperature.
This year, I’m not sure my maternity jeans are going to cut it. I’m utterly surprised with myself, but I want to wear regular jeans, with a regular button and zipper. Jeans that don’t extend three inches above my belly button. Jeans that can be worn with a belt!
Lately I’ve been picturing myself going on errands and taking walks through Prospect Park with friends. It’s a beautiful picture, in more ways than one. In every scene, I’m wearing jeans and my favorite blue cardigan, with my baby in a sling. But I’m not just wearing any old jeans—they’re the jeans stacked on the highest shelf in my closet, which I can’t even reach.
A girl’s got to have goals, right? And with this belly sticking out in front of me all the time, collecting anything this messy eater drops at lunch, just about the best thing I can imagine right now is a good-fitting, worn-in but just washed pair of good old-fashioned blue jeans.