Style for Sale

I have fallen into a grave and hideous mommy trap. I have gone to a place that I never thought I would go, and I have done it willingly. Yes, I now wear sweat pants. And not only do I wear them, I love to wear them. Yes, I wear matching sweatsuits and I bum around in runners or flip flops. I have gone against everything that I felt was holy and sacred. I carry around a worn out hobo bag that really should be retired, and no I don't particularily care if that spit up that I thought I wiped up earlier was entirely removed or not - it's just going to get dirty again anyway.

I have cleaned out my closet to take the relics of my old life to a consignment store, and it is full of beautiful spike heeled boots, Kenneth Cole blazers, and perfectly tailored Banana Republic trousers - but that's not me anymore. I don't really pine for that old life, in fact I find it odd that I hardly remember it. Now my dream outfit is a colourful t-shirt, a big comfy hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants that hopefully hides my ass well enough that I can be seen in public.

So how did I get to this point? I didn't just wake up one morning and decide to throw fashion to the wind. I think pregnancy is a transition in more ways than one. Sure that nine months serves as a time for you to read and study up on how you are going to be the best damn mommy there is. But it also prepares you to say goodbye to clothes with "dry clean only" labels and pointy-toed shoes. During my pregnancy I was happy to have a pair of pants that didn't cut off the circulation in my ever-growing thighs, who cared what they looked like! I even owned a pair of brown polyester pants, BROWN! POLYESTER! And Nick married me in that state, what a guy.

Now my qualifications for an outfit are: can I pull up my shirt easily to nurse, does it wash easily, and will it hide puke (or worse) stains if we have an accident while we're out? And, can't forget most importantly, is it comfortable? Stacey and Clinton would be horrified with me.

So, my old style is officially for sale, that is if you happen to still be a size 4 (in which case you OBVIOUSLY don't have children, and if you do, I don't want to hear about it). It's all in bags in the basement, ready to be trucked out to sell. Come on baby, momma needs a new pair of sweats!