I went shopping this weekend in search of maternity bargains at a local outlet mall. The primary goal was finding a fabulous outfit for an upcoming fundraiser for work that could also do double-duty as a fabulous outfit for Josh's sister's wedding, the following weekend.
In my head, I had envisioned the fabulous outfit as being some sort of floaty, feminine, slightly sexy sun dress in a fun summer print. Ha. There is nothing sexy or fun about maternity dresses.
I tried on about half a dozen, gazing into the mirror in growing dismay as each one -- apparently cute on the rack -- revealed itself to be a horrible ugly dumpy tentslashmumu (read it out loud) sack.
Seriously. Awful. They tended to be empire waisted, no surprise. Gathered under the boobs and then falling in an ungraceful slump to just *above* the knee. I don't like to show my knees under the best of circumstances, and short skirts while you're pregnant just seem like masochism.
Happily, once I abandoned the illusion of the fabulous dress, I did find a fabulous skirt and top combo in a matter of minutes. Slinkly black slightly flared skirt that falls to mid-calf. Slinky black and red geometric top with a funky stand-up collar and narrow v-neck. Add some kitten heels and toe nail polish to match and we'll be all set.
Less I be seen as I horrible snob, let me say that I'm willing to give the dresses a second chance. When I am a few more months pregnant and the belly bump is undeniably apparent to even the least-discerning eye, maybe the sack dresses will actually be cute. Maybe.
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