It's a complete sham that the only physical reward a mom gets for popping out her post first kid(other than the sweet screaming mimi itself) is an extra love handle. Or eight. I love that most moms I know affectionately refer to their post-natal bellies as their "muffin top." That's cute. My muffin top is not cute. It's more like the jawline of an English bulldog...no wait, that's way adorable too. It's more like what bubbles over the tube in an eighth grade lava experiment. Regardless, it's awful and I'm going to take pictures of myself from the double chin up from now on until I can make it go away.
To make it go away is another world of worry from now because I'm still nursing. In case you haven't seen me in a few years, or since weaning Grayson, I'm currently the same bra size as your Aunt Hilda. Seriously, none of you would recognize these cans. My husband barely knows it's me half the time and sometimes he literally goes, "Your boobs are huge," as if they just knocked on the door, shook his hand, and introduced themselves for the first time that day. Crazy.
The one way I could hide myself and all my unloveliness was typically shopping at Old Navy. Why there? Because I love how they size things. I once was an 8-10 in pants and could go into Old Navy and get a 4-6!! A FOUR? Are you kidding me? My mother birthed me as a nine proper and I've NEVER been a four as long as I've breathed oxygen- WAHOO! I LOVE Old Navy! They also have very cute shirts. So I went to Old Navy this week with my little gift cards (other people know I love Old Navy too) excited as hell to purchase things that were non-maternity and actually trendier than my Danskin sweat jacket (hot.). Since I was towing a 6 month old in a stroller and a toddler everywhere BUT the stroller, I opted not to try anything on. I am a smart shopper, however, and an honest girl so I upped my usual size by two and "went big." Evidently, I wasn't being generous enough. Old Navy has officially let me down. Their 10-12 pants barely camouflages my extra-ness and I REFUSE to believe I've gone up that many sizes just because I was at one time in my life larger than Minneapolis, Minnesota.
So I'm left with a bag of really cute summer pants and shorts that do not fit. They MIGHT fit if I stop eating and take on a crack habit but I'm thinking neither is a great idea for nursing Abby.
Old Navy, I suggest you design a NEW line of clothing for the post-baby thirty and forty-somethings who still deserve to feel good about themselves. And I further suggest you start by sizing them this way: "If you WERE a 8-10 before babies, this should work" or "Have 20 more to lose? No worries, I hide all that." Believe me, you'd have a few too many devoted shoppers. And we'd all buy at least one of those scuffed up soccer balls our toddler used as a babysitter whilst we browsed your establishment.
