Jean shopping - the bane of my existence

As if shopping for denim was not hard enough pre-pregnancy, try it knocked up. It's like a world of hurt. Not only is the selection of jeans piss poor, but they look ugly. Let me show you.

Look at that! Does that look sexy to you? No!

Granted, these are what is called "full-panel" jeans. There are a few variety of styles, but when your belly gets larger and more pronounced, I prefer a little support around my guy.

The only store I know that has decent denim available for purchase in-store is Motherhood Maternity. God, this store has been my savior. The sales associates have always been incredibly helpful in a non-pushy kinda way. I just don't have that type of body where I can hop online and order anything based on pre-pregnancy sizes without trying it on.

Now back to my jean debacle. Last night the kind lady grabs me a handful of jeans after I tell her my requirements - must be full panel and skinny. No boot-cut for me. I want my legs to look like twigs (since they seem to be the only thing not gaining weight on my massive body.)

Here is where the embarrassment begins. I'm currently dealing with a condition called pubic symphysis. Basically I cannot spread my legs (hehehe) or put my balance on one leg at a time because my pelvis is spreading apart. Damn you relaxin!

I begin to try on the stack of jeans, wishing Matt was with me, just to help and not to laugh. But don't worry, I was doing plenty of that on my own - along with snorting and breathing hard. I spent 15 minutes trying to prop myself on the cushion stool in the corner of the room and almost fell ass-first into the mirror more than once. But my mission was accomplished! Two pair of jeans worked out along with a pair of Assets. (Those are the cheaper version of Spanxs for those not in the know.) Oh these things are so damn ugly but feel like butter.

All my excess fat rolls magically disappear into the leggings and I can see a semblance of my old body. It's a magic trick I could perform every day! Hoorah!

Vivienne is doing well and giving me kicks to my cervix now. It's almost like she is showing off, never a single swift jab, but many of them. I imagine her smiling, thanking Mommy for giving her another cupcake and infusing her blood system with a massive sugar rush. Then I promptly blame my lil Renesmee for giving me these insane sugar cravings and stealing my life essence. Too much? Blame the damn hormones.