Maternity clothes are designed to look good when you’re seven months pregnant. There, I’ve said it. In fact, I’d go as far to say that they’re designed to look good when you’re between 30 and 32 weeks pregnant.
I know: I’m like the Howard Stern of barely-read blogs about nothing in particular, right?
But it’s true. Before then, it’s useful to have expandy waistbands and empire line tops and tights that go up to your armpits, but you never look like the models in the pictures or the mannequins in the windows of Jojo until you’re about seven months pregnant. Pre-seven months, tops and dresses still hang down low at the front, and you constantly have to hoik jeans and leggings up. Post 32-weeks, everything you put on – apart from massive knickers and pyjamas – feels like a hair shirt.
If you’re pregnant for the first time, you’ll read lots of things on maternity clothing websites that say the following things (which I am subsequently going to SMASH in a wordy sort of way – see wickedly impressive put-downs in parentheses):
“Buy in your pre-maternity size!”
(Yes, you can buy in your pre-maternity size – until you’re five months pregnant. After that, you’re on an upwards trajectory, particularly if you shop in H&M.)
“Perfect for maternity AND nursing!”
(If it looks good while you’re pregnant, it’ll look HIDEOUS when you’re breastfeeding. And vice versa.)
“Takes you all through pregnancy and beyond!”
(Now listen up, people, and listen well: the only item of clothing which will take you through pregnancy and beyond are your socks.)
My advice? Buy some stuff, but keep it cheap, you’ll only be wearing it for a relatively short time (unless it’s socks – feel free to invest a lot of money on socks). Everything else, borrow.
Do I follow my own advice? Nope. I have EIGHT pairs of maternity jeans. EIGHT. No-one needs this much denim, not even Bryan Adams. Not even B*Witched.
And for those of you interested in how I coped while Dave has been away, the answer is admirably. Like some sort of incredible super parent with super parenting skills. We had a beautiful, angelic time. Teddy was a delight, and I was well-groomed.*
*Teddy had 2,738 meltdowns. One of them was because there were too many bubbles in the bath. By the end of yesterday, I was Very Feeble Indeed. Today is a different story – Teddy has eaten all his food without protestation, and I have bought myself a new bra. As I walked round M&S this afternoon I imagined Katie Price and Peter Andre were singing “A Whole New World” and directing it to me, as my very own theme tune. I realise that’s a little disturbing. I mean, crikey, it’d be awful if they got back together, wouldn’t it? It was those matching outfits that did it for me. Very sinister.