I am NOT coming out of the closet!

I was reading through Salt&Nectar’s blog, and I began to realize that ‘having nothing to wear’ is the prevalent saga of women today. When we have closets brimming with years worth of lightly worn clothing and still, after hours of searching, something befitting (or fitting) for the moment, is indubitably nonexistent.

I know how it happens, and I am pretty sure it’s impossible  to prevent this from occurring. It never ceases to amaze the men how they send their significant other into the bedroom to get dressed, with even the largest of wardrobes, and still after two hours of waiting, she returns clad in nothing but her lingerie. Yes, it took her two hours to find underwear that fit. It is so simple, I can’t understand why men are so hardheaded that they can’t comprehend.

This is how it begins. You stock up on pretty underwear, sexy little lingerie, and an abundance of clothing, all to impress your new man. Several weeks go by, some cases months, and you start to realize that there is no way in hell you are shaving everything every day, for even the man you love. And so, you set out to shop. A few new pieces of lingerie that cover a bit more but are still sexy enough. Please, they are men. Even the littlest bit of skin is good enough. You are satisfied for a bit longer and run out to pick up a few more things. You are just tired of being uncomfortable. Lace is real nice and all, but around the edges, damn is it sharp.

Things are going well. Months into your relationship you begin to cook. We all know tasting is part of cooking. And we all know what tasting and cooking is responsible for. That’s correct. You set out on another journey which you had been postponing for too long. A girls gotta be able to close her pants. Time for roomier clothing. Still hot, of course, but a little more comfortable.

Then the conversation comes up. The “Is it time for a baby” one. So you run out and get a few more things to wear because you are thinking of baby. Thinking of showing now and you want an easy transition without too many curious glances.

What do you know, it happens. The stick is pee’d on and it’s definitely two solid lines. Nausea. All you can think of is puke. And of course the fact that you are going to be fat. What are you going to wear? Who are you going to tell first?

Severe bloating. Nothing is able to close. Boobs (or what appears to be just ‘boob’)are bulging out of your bra. You feel like crap and look like crap. You can’t wear maternity yet because all you have is a blob. It definitely does not resemble the sexy belly of the latest pregnant celebrity. You can’t find anything to flaunt. You are almost showing and need to shop for that halfway stage.

You close your eyes and stumble through the next two months with your new wardrobe of possibly very unattractive clothing. On most days, you just stay at home in your Pj’s beneath your covers. You’re so tired anyways. You wake up one morning and you are greeted by the presence of a whole new addition to your belly. Now it’s time to get out and buy stuff. Finally. You are really showing and you can look pregnant and not like a squishy blob.

You feel good (not really good, just better) and dress yourself to expose the pleasant new addition. You can sexy it up, how hard can that be. A few new items of lingerie and some new bras for the busty girls and some (finally!) maternity clothing. It works for a few more months and the end is drawing near. You begin to puff up and now you officially resemble Violet Beauregarde.

Water retention is an understatement and it has been way too long. Baby, out! Bloating, out! Just get it all out. But as we all soon come to realize, it is not in our hands. We have to wait it out. Big, fat, purple Violet it is. To survive the last month (plus some, for some of us) we go out and shop till we can stand no longer. (Should normally be 2 minutes but we have a special surge of energy just for this. No, not the dishes.) New bras, new clothing, and no lingerie. Deal with it, my love. You got me into this awful, swelling disaster.

The day that you never thought would be, arrives. The baby is out and more, of course, follows suit. You still look pregnant and some maternity fits and some does not. Your boobs take over a whole new continent and the “lift bra and nurse” technique is driving you mad and soaking your clothes. Time for the special sized nursing bras. Baby in hand, you are at it again. Bags full of new clothing for you and your baby. Still sir, no lingerie. No way in hell are you going to see the milk factory in any compromising positions.

I can keep going,  but it never ends. The milk slows down and the girls shrink a few sizes. You feel better and you buy some clothing that fits the next stage and lingerie when you feel you can expose some parts of yourself. Your milk stops and you buy more bras…

It goes on and on and on- yeah! (Thank you  Taio Cruz, your song just fell into place here)

I have so much clothing in my house sometimes,
Saying AYO. Gotta let go.
It wont fit, no matter how I try,
Saying AYO.
Hunny, lets go.

I need to shop, shop, shop, shop.
I hit the stores To buy a top, top, top, top
Because the girls decided to Drop, drop, drop, drop
And all the fat won’t seem to stop, stop, stop, stop
Ye, ye
The list goes on and on and on
And it goes on and on and on Yeah!

Your closet now consists of pre-man, post-man, pre-baby, pregnant, post-baby, nursing, not nursing, sexy, not sexy, ugly days, pretty days, emaciated days (For those whose babies nurse and suck out everything they own), fat days, muffin top days (or months/years..), lost weight, gained weight, dress clothes, home clothes, time of the month clothes, park clothes, cleaning clothes, friends night out, date night out, too much alcohol, too much puke, too little sleep, too much sleep (dream on), to impress others, to impress ourselves….

And even after all the rummaging, men, yes, there may be something that miraculously fits. However, the constant style changes don’t help the situation at all. And yes, you don’t care what it looks like, as long as we hurry it up and get out of the closet to get to the party on time. Tell me again that you don’t mind when you see the very outdated 80’s attire. If you promise to  hold my hand throughout the event, I may consider. Otherwise, I will be nude unless, in this mangled mountain of wires, I will find a bra that fits me.

It never ends… I hope you understand better now.


Posted on March 1, 2011, in My Daily Blogs and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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