As we all know there is no magical fairy that rides on in and with a wave of her wand transforms us into a glowing gorgeous pregnant goddess.
Truth is after suffering 24/7 morning sickness, feeling bloated and the inability to sleep properly, there is a good chance that we do not resemble or even feel remotely like the glowing mum to be that people are telling us we look like.
I have learnt that moisturizer, concealer, mascara and lip-gloss are all you need to make people think you have it all sorted and in fact you are not a zombie like mess just trying to get through the day at work or about with friends.
I wanted my standard issue work uniform to be either my pyjamas or my super comfy “fat pants” (my harem pants). As the weeks and months went on, I was constantly buying shirts in a range of sizes as my expanding waist and boobs were not staying contained for more than 3-4 weeks at a time. Unfortunately for me there are no maternity shops in the town I live in, so desperate times sometimes called for desperate measures such as buying men’s work shirts and going into op shops and hunting down what ever I could to get me through until my next visit to town. I’d have to wash the items a million times to get rid of the smell of mothballs or whatever else it was that made my sensitive nose go into overdrive.
I had however not been informed by any one to get up a good supply of undies and a comfortable maternity bra, and stupidly I didn’t really give it too much thought. I definitely didn’t consider how wearing a G-string would drive me that insane id want to cut it off by lunch time, or borrow a crow-bar to get them off so I could pee!
I spent a few months borrowing bras off my mum who is quite well endowed like me, until they begun to get tight and would cause me such pain from the underwire pressing against my ever-bulging belly. It was time for me to give in and upgrade and trade in my bra for something comfy.
As for my undies I was not aware of just how ruined they would all get in the pregnancy. So at my next trip to town I brought the shop out of comfy and very unsexy maternity undies in a few different sizes because I was concerned that if the rest of me was growing as quick as my tummy then I would need my own postcode for my ass pretty soon.
Finding bras were a little more troublesome as I was already huge, finding a few sizes bigger and to be comfortable was a little harder. I was very tempted to by a set of curtains and fashion myself a muumuu to get through these final months of pregnancy.
As the months have passed and my bump has expanded I have tried everything to remain as well kempt and respectable as possible. The last straw for me obsessing and caring was last week when not a single pair of my pj’s and comfy pregnancy shirts fitted any more. It would seem that my tummy has indeed dropped and I am now the proud owner of a Gunt. I have to wear my man’s t-shirt and jumpers to disguise and cover my tummy and I would like to patent a seat/tripod looking device with a wheel on it to pick up my heavy belly and carry it around for me. It will also provide me comfort when I am resting standing up, and I won’t need to be concerned that I may just topple over from all the extra pounds on the front of me.
I will be spending my final few weeks close to home, trying to escape the warmer weather that is starting to roll on in and I make no apologies to my friends and family who come to visit and find me in the comfy clothes I choose to wear and my lack of makeup and my mummy ponytail.
I’m just simply conditioning my ego and usual fastidiousness to cope with the fact there will be days I wont remember if I have showered, put on underwear or brushed my teeth, but I’m sure one look from my beautiful bundle and I wont care one bit!
