Pretty much since Thing 1 popped out, I have had the "must fit back into pre-baby clothes" mentality. The weight fell off pretty quickly thanks to a strict regime of having every drop of liquid in my body sucked out through my nipples. And shaking...errrr...rocking a restless, colic-y baby almost constantly.
Alas, my old wardobe still did not fit. Even though my weight was down, my body was different. My hips were wider, along with my rib cage. I had been a card carrying member of the ibtc (itty bitty titty committee) for all of my adult life. Suddenly I had these massive milk cannons I needed shirts to accommodate.
I didn't know how to dress my new body. But convinced myself it was temporary. I stayed in maternity pants and got by on flowy shirts. I never even thought to buy clothes because I had a bulging closet of ensembles just waiting to be worn.
Every so often. When I was feeling optimistic. Or had a glass (bottle) of wine, I would pull out my old Hudson jeans to see if I could slither myself into a miracle. The fact that I've gained 20lbs in the past 2 years and the waistband wouldn't even breech my knees told me, hell naw!
And for literally 2 years I have done this to myself. Poured myself into clothes my 20-something self rocked and felt like shit when I saw the result. After that I'd go back to my uniform. Never buying anything new because I had a wardrobe full of clothes waiting to be worn, dammit!
God knows how long this cycle would have continued if it weren't for my recent epiphany.
I was doing the usual self sabotaging tango of pulling out my summer clothes box. Just to make sure there wasn't anything lurking that might fit. I POURED myself into a sweet lil' summer dress. This particular garment showcased an offensive amount of boob, under-boob, side-boob and somehow, butthole. It wasn't good, ladies.
Then it happened. My moment of clarity. My eureka. My aha. The cure for the existential crisis I was in the throes of. Thing 1 looked up at me, or more likely at the c-section scar that this cursed dress also flashed. Her blue eyes bright and unblinking, she said, "mommy need big girl clothes like me. I big girl and have bigger, bigger clothes!"
Hot damn.
I always knew she was wise beyond her years but this was some straight up Yoda shit!
I needed bigger clothes. Why was I pouring myself into something I stole from my roommate 6 years ago?! Why the hell did I expect myself to fit back into it after all the miraculous changes my body made to bring another life into the world? (I like to refer to the process as miraculous because it glazes over the fact that I have stretch marks on my boobs and pubes growing out of my c-section scar)
Maybe I'll lose the weight one day. Maybe I won't. Regardless, it's time to kiss that closet full of outdated crap goodbye.
So why not have a little fun while doing it?
Strictly for you broads enjoyment, I will slither myself into my old, awful fitting clothes and post a picture. As a reminder to laugh. Just laugh. We have enough pressure on us to be good moms and not raise total arseholes, why stress about that hoochy Forever 21 dress that doesn't cover your labia anymore? (Total transparency, I'm not actually sure what a labia is? The top bit? Middle? Innard?)
Who gives a tiny rats ass if your old clothes don't fit?! And if they do, you go girl! Can I interest you in a closet full of 2012's hottest trends? For a nominal fee of course.
Without further adieu, I present you flashback Friday, Mom(ish) style!
Believe it or not, once upon a time, this was a dress. The operative word being W A S. Like a nice little tactful frock that I would bust out for interviews and weddings. No wonder I never got any jobs. Now I got myself a nice lil' flouncy, floral blouse with excellent back ventilation. I sure as hell haven't gotten any taller in the 7 years since purchasing this, so it appears my lady lumps (in the back and in the front) are to blame for this magically shrinking dress.
The only photographic proof that I could find that, once upon a time, this bad boy fit. Covered my no no square and even zipped up properly. Though this pic is over 7 years old and I have but a faint memory of that night, I'm pretty sure I'm praying that my love of carbs, booze and sugar never catch up with me and I can rock this dress until the end of time. Prayer request NOT answered.
It should also be noted that I hopped hard on the stud trend of 2010. I had 99 problems but not enough studded articles of clothing was NOT one. The belt. This studded beauty, though stretchy, never showed the black bits between every over stretched row, until now that is.
Because of the extreme shortness of this dress and my chocolate starfish being juuuuust nearly visible, I chickened out and put on shorts. I may generally lack a filter, but I draw a line at showing the internet my poop chute. Soz.
So here I am in all my post partum glory finally ready to retire this bad boy from my closet. Why worry about it not fitting when I can just chuck it and get myself something that makes me feel fly. Not cry when the zip won't go up. Who put the expectation out there that a woman's body can't change, must snap right back after baby and stay within the ideal body ideals for life. I wish I knew so I could tell them to suck it!
NOW. I challenge all my broads. Go into your closet and slither into that hoarded pre-baby garment of yours, get a good chuckle, make that bitch kick rocks and go treat yo self!