…words to strike fear into any woman’s heart.
I’m finally on a short break from my classes. What better way to spend my brief summer break than to torture myself tomorrow at my nearest department store?
Does anyone actually like to shop for (and, in a frigid fitting room underneath horrific fluorescent lights, try on) swimwear? I think there was a time when I did – it must have been at least four plus years ago, seems how my son is now three and a half. The last bathing suit I bought was three years ago, and the whole reason I went for the halter top was for easy feeding options, if you catch my drift. I got rid of it last summer when my ridiculous cat chewed the strap off.
Let’s go ahead and add in the fact that I’m pregnant again, and what the hell kind of bathing suit do you buy when, at a minimum, boobs, belly, and hips are going to be a different size in August than in June? I’m at that awkward point where things are just starting to expand. No need to fetch the box of maternity clothes off the top closet shelf yet, but already none of my jeans fit.
Shopping is supposed to be fun. Why would we intentionally set out to purchase something that is going to eat away at our self-image all summer?
The good news is, my dad’s going to take my son out for the day so I can shop without a busy little boy in tow. My mom is even coming with me to help me pick something out. The bad news? We haven’t yet told anyone that I’m pregnant. I just had my first OB visit this week. I have a feeling it’s not going to be much of a secret once my mom sees me in nylon and Lycra.
Wish me luck!