Nothing to wear

Somewhere to go.

I stared into the closet I recently emptied out because “nothing was working!” and “nothing fits anymore” and “it’s too messy!” I had spent the previous Saturday stuffing everything I deemed unwearable for the final trimester of pregnancy into clear plastic tubs. I asked Clayton to carry them to the basement so I could reevaluate them six months after the baby and maybe just maybe they would fit again.

I had reached the inevitable stage of pregnancy where the only things that fit well were paneled jeans and high-waisted maternity leggings. I needed things to fit, and fast because I had a big client meeting coming up, and my latest monthly clothing rental wouldn’t arrive in time. This was a meeting I convinced myself required me to look “creative” and “trendy” and a bunch of other things that would somehow position me as both highly professional and super fun to work with.

With no other choice, I brought home the office blazer, a long blue Nine West piece designated for anyone to use when a last minute Zoom call happens and you’re wearing gym clothes. I took it home hoping I could pull off one of those oversized-blazer looks the women on my ‘Maternity Clothes Inspo’ Pinterest board wore. You know those effortless chic , Parisian-style women whose hair is pulled back in a tight low bun, their eyes disguised by large dark sunglasses, flawless in fitted pants that flatter their perfectly round bellies, radiating a vibe of, ‘watch me dominate work and motherhood’.

Too overwhelmed to plan ahead , I waited until the morning of my meeting to try everything on. I tried everything on twice… the white crew neck maternity top, the black one, the v-neck. I landed on the white crew neck. Finally dressed, I entered the kitchen to ask my audience what they thought.

“Sneakers or pointy flats?” I asked Clayton who was busydishing eggs onto the girls’ plates. I pointed to my feet displaying one of each shoe.

‘Flats’ he said with confidence.

“Ugh! Fine, okay” I muttered, not totally convinced. I was sure the velvet blue and pink Adidas Sambas screamed “creative and trendy.”

I slipped the flats on. “Okay, seriously tell me– do I look pregnant in this outfit?”

He paused, calculating his options of response, “Um… what’s the right answer?”

In between a bite of scrambled egg, Caroline turns towards me, extending both her hands into flat palms towards the ceiling to emphasize her point, “Mom, you look like a very pregnant lady.”