A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
Has pregnancy sensitivity (this should be a diagnosed condition) officially set it? I’ve been looking for a new pair of black leggings. Seems like an easy feat, right? My current pair work good with tunics and dresses, but require a censor (if you know what I mean) when wearing anything that reveals the boo-tay or ha-ha region. So we were out shopping last night for last minute Christmas stuff. Yes, I am that person despite my promise not to be each year. I saw the maternity store, the store I down-right-refused to enter with my first pregnancy. I made it my goal the first time around to make normal clothes work. And I did. I think there was one exception: A wedding at 35 weeks and well, nothing fit. Anyway, enter the maternity store. First annoying question/assumption: “I’m sure you shopped with us the first time around (she’s glancing at Hooper), riiiight?” Okay, now this is awkward because I reply, “Nope”. She’s eager to show me everything in the store, simultaneously pointing out all the wonderful Holiday sales, yada yada yada. I just want leggings. Truth be told, not even specifically maternity leggings. Just leggings that don’t require a censor. She finally takes me to the leggings section, pointing out they are buy one get one half off. Blah, blah, blah. I just need one pair. She confirms that they require no censor, so I’m sold. Ready to get the heck out of this store. She rings me up. Forty two dollars. FORTY TWO DOLLARS?! Now I’m regretting having not looked at the price tag and making the assumption that all leggings are somewhere in the $20 or under range. Apparently the censor costs $22. The wheels of annoyance are spinning harder now that I realize I’ll be having to make another trip back to this dreaded establishment to return forty dollar leggings. Then she does a little look over her shoulder to be sure my husband can’t hear, tilts her head to the side, and whispers, “How are you doing on stretch mark cream?” Pregnancy sensitivity. It needs to be a diagnosis people! See, I know she’s trying to be nice but I feel offended. What I feel like saying is: “Lady, I’m ten weeks pregnant first of all. You see my 13 month old in the stroller second of all. Shit hasn’t started stretching that much yet and shit has already been stretched before.” I politely say no thank you and leave with a newly established down-right-refusal to go the maternity store route again.
Am I crazy? Too sensitive? Do you remember being sensitive during your pregnancies? I think I will compile a list of things you don’t say or ask to pregnant woman. I remember someone asking me when I was pregnant with Hooper if I was having twins. Just for the record, there is some ridiculous 2% chance or something of having twins. As a stranger, why take that 2% chance of being right when you have a 98% chance of offending someone? Pregnancy sensitivity.
Last night, on my way out of work, I smelled Mexican food. Then those pregnancy hormornes kicked in. And I wanted it. Bad. So we tried a little place not far down the street and it was great. Craving quenched.