The Mortifications of the Flesh

I had read that with the second baby, you show a lot earlier, and I have definitely found this to be true. It's as if my abdominal muscles (such as they were, let's be honest) just said, "We know where this is going" and surrendered.

Thus, I am facing a more extended season of maternity wear and therefore more total cycles of the same outfits. Last time, I inadvertently put off wearing maternity clothes probably too long. I had a pair of maternity jeans that I kept trying on, and they kept slipping down, so I thought that I wasn't big enough for maternity clothes yet, but as it turned out, those pants were just an exceptionally poor fit. As a result of this misjudgment, I persisted in wearing regular clothes to the point that 1) it probably looked tacky and 2) when I finally did realize my mistake, I actually felt relief at how comfortably maternity clothes fit.

I'm still in my regular wardrobe for now, but I began steeling myself for the inevitable by looking around for a couple of things to supplement my maternity wardrobe. The whole experience was incredibly demoralizing. Worse than shopping for jeans, worse than shopping for bathing suits. There is something just so depressingly delusional about a clothing line that advertises its "secret fit belly." Especially when you look at the online models, and all you can SEE is belly. Whom do they think they are kidding? Me, I guess (hence demoralizing). I looked at a couple of dresses, and for an instant found myself pathetically hopeful that the design of one seemed to offer a certain camoflauge. But then I thought, come on. Seriously. Are my students really not going to notice that I gain twenty or thirty pounds right before their very eyes, in the time it takes them to write three essays and read six novels? I don't think so.

Meanwhile, there is the diverting challenge of managing a toddler and bouts of (thank you, God, that it is not as bad this time) morning sickness. Which means that on those (not as frequent, so I'm really not complaining, I promise) occasions that I find myself hunched over the kitchen sink, I am also holding Allison Clare's hand in one of my own, while she, fascinated, jumps up and down next to me and says, "Blaaaah! Blaaaah!" because she is a stage of imitating everything I do. Charming child.