For the Love of...

Elastic.

About six (or more?) years ago, I received a pair of Carhartts for Christmas. They were the rusty-orange colored, work jeans that don't really match anything. I loved them. By the time I had Finley, I had broken them in so much so that they were tan, and were so soft, you would mistake them for fine flannel if your eyes were closed.

It took me a while after Finley was born for them to fit properly again, and I was happy when then did.

Then Joe came along. Once again, I started dreaming of the day when I could wear my favorite jeans again. Months went by, and I finally got the courage to try them on. They didn't feel quite right, so I waited a few more months, then tried again. Slowly, the realization hit me: I am not the same. Internal somethings must have shifted. Other somethings must not have tightened back up all the way. Something... I have a pile of clothes that I stare at and wonder if it is possible if I could ever fit into them again. I can hardly bear the thought of giving them away... or should I say, trashing them (since most of them are worn to the point that no one else would wear them).

Now, with this third pregnancy, even clothes I remember wearing comfortably with the first two don't seem to feel right, and typical pregnancy clothes don't normally fit me well either. Now, I dream of elastic. I fantasize about finding pants with elastic waist bands cool enough that no one would suspect what they really are. Now, I wear overalls, and disillusion myself with the thought that someday, maybe with intense pilates and yoga workouts, I'll be wearing my Carhartts comfortably again.