no. 582 – Polyester and Boob Bows

Last week I mentioned to Mr. DD that I had to get to The Metro to do some shopping. The bellaband has been sufficient for making do, but unless they make a hippaband or a thighaband, I was going to have to upgrade.

Mr. DD, in his infamously sweet and romantic way, responded, "Should you be showing already?"


What an ass, because I guarantee you that he probably has not one iota of a clue what week I’m in, much less know when a woman should start "showing" or not.

Don’t worry. I left his nutsack unscathed.

I have tried to shop at Target over the past couple weeks. I’ll walk up to the maternity clothing section and then turn the opposite direction. I just couldn’t commit. The only other place to buy any maternity clothing in my town is at a rinky-dink department store; not even the JCPenneys here carries a line. The amount Rinky-Dink had in their store probably filled about six clothing racks (and that includes the two to three racks of clearanced items that all have weird flouncy bows attached under the boob).

Finally I caved and bought nine items. Of the nine, five were returned the next day after I had a chance to try them on and freak the fuck right out of myself as I looked in my bathroom mirror, including the one pair of pants I thought I could make work.

I was left with no choice but to go back to Target and see which of the polyester pants would make me least likely to break out into hives.

I didn’t bother asking Mr. DD this morning if the pair I was wearing made my ass look big.


On an unrelated-related note: this morning while Mr. DD was making XBoy breakfast and I was in the bedroom, I sneezed. From the kitchen I heard Mr. DD and XBoy, "bless you". Awwww, how sweet.

Then a few minutes later after a coughing fit, I had my head in the sink doing the dry-heave dance (you know, the one where you stomp your foot with every violent contraction of your stomach while keeping your mouth centered over the drain), and do you think I got one word of sympathy, much less a bless you from either of those two? Nope. In fact, when I told Mr. DD that puking on an empty stomach isn’t too bad, I was told that I was giving up TMI.

How rude. Everyone’s pretty quick with the "bless you" when I sneeze, or even the "excuse you!" when I burp or fart, but heaven forbid I make it the family business when I hurl.