I am just past the midpoint of my pregnancy, and while the second trimester is my favorite, I am also at the juncture where my boobs and belly protrude at about the same distance from my body, which makes me look like I have a mass of blob hanging in front of me. I have to say, the boobs to belly ratio of 1:1 is rather unattractive on me so no matter how I dress, I feel frumpy.
Enter mid-pregnancy crisis. Some people buy a Porsche (or if it were me, an Audi R8); some people buy a speedboat to lift their spirits during a midlife crisis. What do I do at the midpoint of my pregnancy? I buy jeggings. To lift my butt. Yes, jeggings. For the uninitiated, it’s basically jeans + leggings, and thus a ridiculously awful sounding term is born. I didn’t mean to purchase it - I was in search for maternity skinny jeans to replace my pre-pregnancy one that I’ve come to depend on during winter months to fit effortlessly and snugly into my boots as I navigate the snow and salt ubiquitous in these parts. When I happily went home with one that I liked, I finally saw the words “jeggings” printed on the receipt. Oh no, I didn’t! That word makes my face twitch. But that doesn’t mean I won’t wear it.
You see, as many of you may know, maternity gear is not always (ever?) flattering. When you depend on spandex to keep your pants up, chances are they won’t stay put as obediently as you’d like. The stretch factor, while nice to accommodate a growing belly, also means it loses its elasticity at the wrong moments and suddenly you find your pants sagging, and along with it, your butt. OK fine, my butt.
Now, I don’t exactly have the bodacious bod of one blessed with an hour-glass figure. No little waist and bootylicious hips for me to keep figure-hugging garments nicely in their place, but at least before this, my jeans fit well enough to show a little curvature around my butt. And that appeased my vanity - it’s better than nothing - and since My Guy’s a butt guy, I’d like to think that there’s something in it for him too. (Although, sometimes I wish he was a boob guy – I’m a little luckier in that department.)
So now, back to these jeggings. They fit me so well that they look painted on, and I’m afraid I might never be able to get them off me again. Ever. But at least my butt’s perky, which I hope will distract people from that mass in front. That is, until the belly expands and I look properly pregnant. I know I’m supposed to feel proud of this body that’s growing a baby, and yada yada yada, but come on, doesn’t everyone go through an awkward teen phase where body parts were unwieldy and out of place? Well, it wasn’t pretty then and it sure isn’t pretty now either.
Yes, I realize this post is dedicated to my butt, and I’ve unabashedly shown you my very vain, rather shallow side. What can I say? I’m multi-faceted (and shameless) that way. And imperfect. And human. The same person who worries about her family’s health and her kid’s future does sometimes obsess over something as superficial as the way she looks. But I’d like to think that these quirks don’t define me; they’re just a part of me.
Just be glad I didn’t include a Before and After picture of my behind pre and post jeggings - something I was contemplating but decided against at the last minute.
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Do you worry about your appearance? Or do you have any other obsession that you’re brave enough to own up to here? Do you own a pair of jeggings? If so, how do you get them off you?!
Image Source: Smoking_Butts by Pro-Zak