Maternity Fashions

In the time-honored tradition of hand-me-downs, I have received my first bag of hand-me-down maternity clothes.

Let's just be clear about this: I am pro hand-me-down. I am in support of using goods second hand that still have life in them to be used up. In fact, just last weekend, we went thrift store shopping and I bought a) a pair of (new) organic cotton sleep pants, b) a bunch of baby hangers and c) an All-Clad grill pan. My sister sent me a package of barely worn white onesies in sizes 0-18 months for which I am extremely grateful. Heck, a friend even gave me her (meticulously cleaned) used Diaper Genie, for which I am sure I will be extremely grateful in a few months.

But the problem with hand-me-down clothes for me is that I like to think of myself as a relatively stylish person. (Even a gigantor pregnant relatively stylish person.) When I shop for second-hand clothes, I shop at the chi-chi consignment stores. That's right, people: I might balk at paying $60 for a t-shirt at Banana Republic, but I'll gladly pay a whole $12 for it at a nice consignment shop so that I don't have to dig through 7,000 ugly shirts to find the one good one at a thrift store.

But I will not wear a shirt that I don't like, no matter how little it costs.

Even free.

So out of a large bag of clothes (A Banana Republic bag! So promising!) I found one top that I might keep.

Maybe.

Because I just can't see myself in super-faded-wash mom jeans or pilly tee shirts with questionable patterns. Even for two more months.

Even if they're free.

~*~

In other fashion-related news, I was assigned to write a story for the baby magazine about maternity fashions. The concept was that I would go to this cute little maternity boutique and their buyer would dress me up in adorable maternity outfits and then a photographer would take our picture as we showed off how cute having a bump could be.

Let's count the ways that didn't happen.

First, the adorable boutique is, in fact, super adorable, but the people I was supposed to work with over there dropped off the face of the planet. I got several very enthusiastic emails, and then... crickets. I called, I sent emails, I delivered muffin baskets (OK, not really). I could not get these people to talk with me again.

Second, I tried to move on to another adorable maternity boutique. But did you know that in the entire Front Range I could not find a single other store that specializes in maternity clothes—that wasn't a chain. Diaper stores? You becha. Stores dedicated entirely to nursing products? Absolutely. Yoga studios that cater to pre- and post-natal mommies? Sure thing. Stores that sell every green, eco-friendly baby product imaginable? But of course. But maternity clothes? No dice.

Third, early on in this process, I realized that I was procrastinating HARD on writing this story. In fact, working from home gave me the opportunity to see just how hard. When I ended up scrubbing the bathroom rather than trying to call the store again, I realized we might have a problem. It turns out, I REALLY didn't want to go get my picture taken in all my bumpitudinous glory. Like, really MASSIVELY didn't want to. Like, the thought of it pretty much gave me hives and and a compulsive need to go clean things.

So, I talked to my editor about the fact that this story was cursed, and she was totally sympathetic and understanding, and we reworked the idea a bit. And so it got written as a cheeky little do's and don'ts list for maternity fashions. Which is just as good, if you ask me, as having my photo plastered all over the pages of the magazine.

Better, even.