So yesterday I had to have meltdown #2.
Matt was a witness to the first one. My poor Mom was the witness to this one.
Essentially, I am so sick of these dumb baby books/magazines/store employees that tell you your "pre-pregnancy size" is what you will wear in your pregnancy.
I am normally a 6 or 8, depending on the brand. That is most usually a medium, and occasionally a small. I am sort of tall (5'8") although I am the shortest person in my family.
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Logic would say that I'd wear a medium in stupid maternity clothes, right?
Oh no. Not so fast. We need to factor in this.
This is so out of control it's driving me nuts. So last night we were meeting some friends out at a fun little bar and I wanted a cute shirt. All the shirts I have that I can actually fit into are stretch polos, or tank tops from Old Navy Maternity. Not really the essence of style. I'm not a style snob, but I would like to have just ONE shirt that is somewhat stylish to wear out with friends on the rare occasion I actually head downtown to a nice pub. Is that TOO MUCH TO ASK?!?!
Seriously. I hate everyone in the maternity clothing industry. It seems to be that my choices are either a knit tank top, or shirts that look WAYYYYY too matronly for me. I really don't want to look 15 years older than I am, you know? Why don't they get that?!
So Mom took me to the Maternity Store--the only one really around here--and we tried to find shirts. I tried on MEDIUMS BECAUSE DARN IT THAT'S WHAT THEY SAY TO DO.
I seriously can barely get them over my head.
Even the LARGES ARE TOO SMALL.
So I proceed to start breaking down in the dressing room. Poor Mom tries to pick out a few clothes to make me feel better but it only made me feel worse. I put on my huge cheap sunglasses and snuck out of there with nothing and then proceeded to heaving cry the whole way home.
I'm sorry you had to witness that, Mom. It's just that....how DARE "they" say that you remain your pre-pregnancy size when I AM ALREADY AT MONTH SIX 2 SIZES OVER THAT?!?!?!?! That REALLY doesn't work wonders for the ego.
I finally got home and decided the only thing that would make me feel better was a GOOD workout.
10 mile run?
How about a nice hour long ride outside?
Okay, fine then I'M JUST GONNA SWIM UNTIL I CAN'T ANYMORE.
So I went up to the pool and swam 3000 yards, stopping only to fix my cap that was inching off my head and occasionally adjust my goggles. 3000 yards, only stopping a few times. I could have definitely kept going, too, but I was already out of time.
TAKE THAT MATERNITY CLOTHING INDUSTRY.
I also ran into Rob, who is kicking some SERIOUS butt getting ready for IMUSA. I can't believe how much he has improved his run game this past year, and I gave him some mad props for it. He's already an amazing swimmer and cyclist, so now that he's blazing the run, I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked off some serious time off his already-impressive IM performances. So it was nice to talk Ironman a bit and I think it helped remind me that next year at this time I can hopefully be moving faster, too.
So I got home, showered and changed, and then headed out to meet my buddies. The more I thought about it, the more I decided that if one part of me have to inflates, I guess it's better that it's the top half. My pants, shorts, capris, and skirts are all medium. I'd rather have an XL top and a medium ass than an XL ass and a medium top.
Baby Z is moving around like crazy. I think it likes to swim. And it's probably also laughing at me, too.
Like, really hard.