My Love / Hate Relationship with Maternity Clothes

I can't stand those elastic pants when you're pregnant -- but what else am I going to do? I have no waist anymore. All that is there is a big, round ball of skin, waiting to pop.

And maternity clothes, although relatively comfortable, are a joke. I spend hundreds of dollars on clothes I'll only wear about 6 or 7 months. And most of the time, the pickin's are slim. Why does everything inexpensive look like doctor's scrubs? Or the dreaded mumu? Ick. I don't want to look like the Duggar mom. I want to dress like myself, only pregnant. All I need is some jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts. I mean, I don't need the fancy work clothes, and it's not like I'm going to some hip dinner or a Hollywood awards show.

Plenty of websites are preach the "recycled" maternity wardrobe. "Borrow from your friends!" they say, making it sound so easy. Well, all my friends are so far from done being pregnant, there are no more hand-me-downs. "Borrow Hubby's clothes!" they advise, in a squeaky too-cheerful voice (okay, I am just imagining that in my head). What -- do they want me to look like I'm wearing a circus tent? Puleeze... "Go on eBay or Craig's List!" Okay, I'll admit, you can get a couple things there, but you're a slave to a stranger's taste in clothes, and it's really all about dumb luck. For the life of me, I still can't find a white zip-up hooded sweatshirt in my size -- and I've been looking for MONTHS!

So, at 5 months pregnant, I walked into a Motherhood store, knowing I would have to fork out at least $200 for a couple of shirts and some pairs of pants, but out of options. I had Monkey with me, and I was just starting to show. A salesgirl approached us, in a too-polite voice, "Hi! Can I help you?"

"Just browsing," I said, starting to look at some clothes in my size.

She watched me for a second, and then asked, still smiling fakely, "Did you need help with sizing?"

"No," I told her, trying to stay polite. "This is my third child, so I remember how it works."

She stayed with us still, and continued to watch us. "So, you know that you're supposed to look for clothes in your pre-pregnancy size?"

"Yes," I said, starting to get annoyed. "It's been 5 years, but not much has changed."

"Well," she informed me, full of authority. "Styles have changed. You probably want to update your style. We have some things in your size over here..."

"I'm just interested in the basics," I told her, really annoyed now. "And this is my size." I was beginning to feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Didn't she want me to spend money in her store? We finally walked out, not spending a dime.

I realized I was better off online. I ended up going to Old Navy, Ross, and Kohl's. No salespeople, and decent prices. Sheesh... like shopping for maternity clothes is already soooooo easy, let's throw in a snobby salesgirl (who's probably never been pregnant) to aggravate the situation.

And guess what? I was right about my size!