oh, how punny of me…
I finally broke down and went bra shopping yesterday. I figure I might as well have at least a couple of appropriate undergarments, even if they end up only being transition items. I seem to be gathering a lot of stuff that falls into the category of transition item – pants, shirts, undergarments, god only knows how much of the actual baby stuff may or may not be usable up front, depending on the girth and/or length of babyQ.
But, with the intent of being able to pack a hospital bag, I bought bras yesterday.
I know that not much exciting has happened, since I’ve been able wear my regular bras 8 months into the pregnancy, but they have been getting a little snug – I reasoned that I’d gone up at least a cup size. So, I sauntered into the maternity store wearing a 34B or 36B [depends on the manufacturer] and crept out with …
What the hell?? Only my rib cage has expanded?? How am I supposed to be some sort of lactation device if the boobs don’t get any bigger? Wasn’t that the whole bonus part of becoming pregnant – that I might actually fill out a t-shirt nicely? Mr.Q will certainly vouch for the fact that there are enough hormones tearing around right now – why aren’t any making their way to my chest??
It was more than slightly depressing. I’ve handled the weight gain gracefully, the bloating with only a slight sense of martyrdom and the aches, pains and charming blonde moments [read: general stupidity] with aplomb and gentle resignation. This was to have been my small, but oh-so happy reward. For once in my life, I should have made a C, damn it. But I have been denied.
And so, as a consolation prize, I bought nursing pads today. If I can’t grow a nice rack, I can at least legitimately stuff my new bras with several of these suckers to make it look like I did.