This weekend my mom and sisters came up to help me get ready for my upcoming city hall wedding. Though I didn't really think it was necessary, I still needed to get something to wear to this wedding and DF decided to make this his bachelor party weekend. I kind of think we should stand in solidarity and agree that if I can't drink/party/have fun, neither should he. But marriage is about compromise. See what a good wife I'll make.
Being as I am at the 20 week mark, my girth is rapidly expanding, though I must have been in some kind of denial. My plan was to find a simple sundress. The only requirement was that it had to fit. Though it is almost September, you'd think there would be a dress or two that would work for me, and I assumed that as long as I stuck to something with an empire waist I'd probably be fit into something.
I didn't take into account my rapidly expanding boobies.
We started at Nordstrom, where even the dresses for plus size ladies refused to zip over my massive funbags. Normally, as someone who is only average in the bust department, I would consider this a good problem. But, getting married naked was not in my plans.
We hit up a few more non-maternity stores before I gave up, realizing I officially can no longer fit into anything that isn't maternity wear. So we headed to destination maternity, where, in addition to getting fitted for a new bra (an effing E cup, BTW!), I tried on several hideous dresses that made me look SUPER pregnant. I emerged from the dressing room wearing one atrocious mumu, and burst into tears. My sisters burst into laughter, which made me cry even harder. Apparently, poor little pregnant chic in the dressing room next to mine had emerged only moments before, also in tears.
Tired of this nonsense, the ladies drug me into Janie and Jack, where I absolutely fell in love with this cute little jacket. Remember, I only just found out that we are having a little girl, so I have abstained from purchasing any clothes.
My mom, proud grandma, likely fearful I'd cry again at any moment, got it for me. I feel like a spoiled brat, but really, I have as much control of my emotions at this point as a kindergartner. After they fed me, I was ready to continue.
We finally found a simple, baby blue cotton maxi dress at a boutique. I didn't look like a whale, so I got it and we headed home.
I was ready to call it a day, but my sister insisted that we "ho it up" and get dressed to go out. The bitch dragged us to a bar, which may have been the most awkward experience of my life. It was loud, and the baby pounded on the inside of my belly, while my sisters grabbed a drink. Though the intention was good, I was miserable, and it was pretty obvious. We left and got to eat again... the highlight of any pregnant lady's day.
Today, because the dress I bought was too long, I took it in to be altered. The man behind the counter informed me it would be $18, and asked if I was really sure I wanted to alter it. After all, it was just a simple cotton dress and wouldn't be worth it. Fuck you very much.
Let me say, if I ever get married again, I will not be pregnant when I do.