This is seriously the best face I made in the full body shots. Apparently I have forgotten how to face.
I told Jason yesterday that I think this is the last week I can wear these, my favorite pair of jeans. I love them because the denim is so soft that they're like wearing sweatpants. They fit perfectly. I've had them for years. And they cost me $12 at a Walmart in Kentucky back when I worked at the Payday Loan place and was at a "professional development conference", which I really shouldn't put in scare quotes because it really did make me think there was something to that job.
Of course, shortly thereafter I learned that a job that requires you to walk onto someone's private property, bang on the door, and demand they pay you what they owe the company they work for is not actually a job I was cut out to do.
I really do love the jeans. But they are about to go lurk in the darkness along with everything else I own pants-wise that "fits me perfectly". Because it fits perfectly no longer. Just like half my work-pants.
Let's just head right on into what I want to talk about, though.
No, I don't actually own any yet, that's not the point.
My point is that maternity clothes are a racket. There's some kind of Maternity Mafia controlling our access to legitimately cute clothing. I have trolled the internet high and low, a friend of mine and I went into just about every store we could THINK of and discovered that either A. they have no maternity clothing at all, B. they "used to" but decided to stop carrying it, or C. their maternity clothes consisted of a single rack of sweatpants in the most abandoned-looking back corner of the store. Now there are consignment shops, which I figure will come in handy later, and there are those maternity-specific stores. We tried those, too!
You know what we found?
Overpriced see-through pajama pants. Gross tacky novelty shirts that would tell all and sundry far more about where babies come from than I ever wish anyone to hear from me. Threadbare T-shirts that cost $10 more than their non-maternity counterpart at JCPenney. Lots and lots and lots of equally threadbare sweaters. A shocking dearth of work clothing, as apparently all pregnant women sit at home glowing all day and don't have to make a living.
The best options I've found so far have been through Old Navy and the Gap, but even they are distinctly lacking in professional business casual options. The stores that do have work pants want me to pay about as much as I'm going to pay for the damn baby in order to afford their pants.
So if everyone sees me start showing up everywhere in maxi skirts or yoga pants starting around April? You've been warned, and you now know why.
Because maternity clothing is run by the Maternity Mafia, and the Maternity Mafia hates women.
Well, they hate any woman who manages to be pregnant and above a size 2.
Size 2 or lower pregnant women get like three work pants options. Lucky ducks.
I like this outfit so much I'm wearing it two days in a row. No shame whatsoever. Of course, I only wore it yesterday for about two and a half hours while running errands, but I think my lack of shame still stands.
It's all about comfort.
Since I work Tuesdays through Saturdays and I also work for an awesome employer, any federal holidays that fall on a Monday, I get on Tuesday. So I'm celebrating President's Day... by possibly buying a pair of shoes.
Things are just going to get all kinds of wacky around here.
In Case You Want to Recreate This Mess:
Cardigan: JCPenney, ancient (this is basically the same thing)
T-shirt: Target. The softest t-shit in the whole world.
Scarf: Christmas gift
Necklace: Silly little rock necklace we sell out of my shop at work.
Jeans: Walmart. No shame. None at all.
Shoes: Privo by Clarks, which... doesn't exist anymore, I don't think.
Purse: Haiku. Old. This year's prints here.
The colors in this outfit were inspired by my absolute favorite style blogger (and my bloggy-friend) Franziska over at Franish. I aspire to one day look half as put-together as she does.