It's fall now, so I figured it was time to try my "normal" clothes on. I really want to wear my old clothes again. So a few weeks ago, I tried on my pre-pregnancy pants. They fit. I was slightly happy for about 2 seconds....till I looked in the mirror and saw that I now have a HUGE muffin top. Where the heck did that thing come from? I swear I never had one of those before, and to be honest, I don't want it now. So, I tried on another pair, since those obviously weren't going to work. I asked C. for his honest opinion. He said in a few weeks, and told me that I just had a baby and that it was going to take a while to lose the baby weight. I love this man.
Flash forward to yesterday. Now, it's starting to get cold, and I really, really don't want to wear my maternity pants anymore. It's be a year of living in them, and a few months of living in yoga pants and sweats. I want my "normal" clothes or some semblance of it. I decided to drag C and Jbb off to the mall. Mistake one: going to the largest mall in the GTA on a Sunday.
I stopped at a few stores to check out their jeans. I didn't like them, so I moved on. Yoga Jeans? Really? Ummm no. Finally, I decided to try the Gap. Not that I've ever had any luck with their jeans. But I'm desperate and living in Canada, where my favorite clothing stores do not exist. Mistake two: living in Canada, the land of bad shopping and small sizing.
I stand in front of the wall of jeans, not knowing my size. I use to wear and 8. What's up with these 24, 26, etc. numbers? Where are the normal clothing sizes? Why are they listed like I'm a guy shopping here? A clerk finally helps me out. In the back ground I see my husband pushing Jbb around in the stroller, and am envious of them. I really don't want to do this. I hate pant shopping. I would rather have a lobotomy.
The nice girl gives me a few options and I grab a few shirts to take to the dressing room too. Mistake three: Why did I think that trying on shirts would be any easier? I'm nursing for God's sake. Needless to say the shirts, didn't even make it past the boobs. This was NOT a good start. So I try on the jeans. I got them on. They were buttoned. I couldn't breathe and the jeans looked like they were painted on. There was NOTHING left to the imagination. I decide to leave. I give up.
I walk out of the dressing room, over to my husband and the JBB. Jbb looks at me with his big blue eyes and smiles. I smile back, but really want to cry. My son has ruined my body, and I don't think it's ever coming back. C. asked how bad it was. 'Bad', I say. Very Bad! I told him to shoot me if I had any desire to go pant shopping in the near future.
I ate a whole row of Oreos once we got home. They were good. Fuck pant shopping. I can just live in my yoga pants.