Never is the need for something comfortable to wear more pressing (quite literally), than in these first few weeks of the second trimester. I’ve given up all hope of wearing “normal” trousers or skirts, even hooking one of E’s hair bands between the button and button hole of my flies isn’t enough to get me into my old jeans anymore. I dispatched Fred to the loft a few weeks ago to retrieve my maternity clothes, hoping to find some salvation there, but alas, no. One pair of jeans – clearly stretched by the latter stages of pregnancy (and a first trimester spent mostly eating chips) just wouldn’t stay up. My favourite, most beloved pair were still as comfy as ever, but the extent of their duties last time around was apparent in the large hole all down one side. My black “smart” trousers were no longer smart nor entirely black and thus, fit only for the bin. Apart from one pair of still serviceable summer combats this left me trouserless.
Perhaps I should explain why the trouser issue is so important:
1- I am 6 feet tall. This means that:
a- It’s really hard to find trousers long enough
b- The few skirts and dresses I can get into are really rather short
2- My job is not skirt friendly:
For those who don’t know what I do, I work in a lab with some pretty expensive, high tech equipment. By high tech I mean likely to break down at any minute. So while I may, on any given day, expect to spend my time stood at a lab bench or sitting at a computer, it’s entirely possible that I will end up on all fours, crawling under a table while wielding a spanner, a 50ml syringe and large tub of Vaseline. It’s not a position I’m keen to be found in at the best of times, but throw in a flash of massive pregnancy granny-pants under an inappropriate denim mini-skirt and the look is complete: knocked-up slutty mechanic. It’s not quite the professional image I’m aiming for.
However, I think there is hope, following a tip off from my conveniently more-fashionable-and-more-pregnant-than-I-am sister in law I braved Oxford street last night (quickly remembering why I never go to Oxford street) and paid a visit to Mamas and Papas where I found a pair of jeans that fitted me!! What’s more they didn’t cost the earth and so far haven’t fallen down on me once! Ok they are probably half an inch too short and they are rather snug across my hips but oh the marvellous comfort of a pair of jeans with elasticated panels instead of pockets.
And oh the wonderful knowledge that none of my colleagues need witness my jumbo sized under-crackers!