Specifically, that of his trousers. Those dandy high waisters. Oh my.
Last week, I merrily bundled up, squeeeezing into my coat, medium yoga leggings pulled up tight, and got there in one piece, everything in place, no poochiness in the crotch, and reasonably comfy.
This week, I have given in. Those leggings might stay put if I tuck my top into them (sometimes I double top, in hiding bruises paranoia, so it’s feasible), but otherwise, they slide down madly. They pooch. They are Not Comfortable. And they do not make me feel any better about my changing shape.
Thing1 is trying to bust out here. I have resorted to two early 2000s coats (generously cut) as I couldn’t get anything done up over boob, sweatshirt and scarf (and it has been Cold). Thank heavens for patient parents who store these things. A spot of long-overdue mending, and I am covered up without feeling constrained. I hadn’t realised how much tight coats were contributing to my feeling lumpen.
I have also bought some maternity leggings. The relief. A waistband basically at bra level. They stay up! They do not pooch! Simon Cowell is onto something here. I might have bought a dress, cunningly cut to accommodate a bump. I nearly bought a skirt, but it was made of rather solid denim, and while it fitted OK, it was not comfortable with all the blood-thinner related bruising. My stomach? A mess. I will spare you the photo.
It’s a bump. This is most definitely a burgeoning bump. I no longer look like I’m just a bit fat. I have a solid bump.
I’m just a bit excited by that!