Friday, March 27, 2009
m is for meh
So here's an object lesson for you.
You weigh 130 pounds. You get pregnant. You weigh 177 pounds. You have a baby. 20 months pass. You weigh 140 pounds. You get pregnant. You weigh 177 pounds. You have a baby. 4 months later, you weigh 158 pounds and don't like how you feel or what you see in the mirror.
You go to 2 Jazzercise classes and suddenly feel beautiful again. You put on your most very favorite Old Navy "cute pants", size M for medium, which mostly fit, except for some unavoidable crackage if you bend over at the wrong time. If you were to see your cute pants in a very dirty mirror, they'd look like this:
You go to Old Navy and are utterly amazed to find the reincarnation of your cute pants. You are so busy herding your toddler and carrying your happily shrieking infant that you slap the pants on, rejoice that they appear to fit, and run out of the store before someone realizes you just bought the perfect pants for $9.99.
You get home and yank out a very dirty mirror to take self-congratulatory photos of the old cute pants and the new cute pants. It's a cute pants party! You realize the mirror is filthy and clean it, and then your picture with new cute pants looks like this:
And you say to yourself, "I'm pretty hot! Eating well and exercise really work! These pants look and feel amazing!"
And then you go to take the tags off your new pants, and you notice something.
Something horrible. Insidious. Cruel. Surely a cruel joke.
Did you just buy...
That's right, hot stuff.
You just bought some amazingly well-fitting maternity pants.
M. For Maternity.
M for Medium, sure. But also for Maternity.
Your new hot pants that are super comfy and flattering are for pregnant peoples.
You should not have eaten that deliciously hot and crispy chicken skin just now, and you will be going to Jazzercise every. day. next. week.
Stupid Old Navy and their careless, slipshod sales section.
Today, I hate the letter M.
But I still love my new cute pants.