au revoir but not adieu!

Today I had my first cry at the total loss of my wardrobe covering my austral regions. At home, I had taken occupancy weeks earlier over my husband's sweats and PJs and evicted him to his jeans to his increased chagrin but unfortunately I still needed to negotiate a fitting with my own wardrobe any time I emerged into the outside world. For some weeks, I had been indulging in the elastic trick (thank you R!),  with my belly progressively conquering its dimensions, but alas no longer.

Last night at dinner with friends, I felt so squashed that I had to escape to the bathroom and let my belly run free, discarding the elastic (in truth, a hair tie) and opening my fly to all its glory. While I physically felt better, it was a little disconcerting, albeit my shirt covered my entire fly, to engage in conversation with the group and stride post dinner along SoHo in a romantic promenade with my hubby back to the Village knowing there was no zip to my step. I shuddered at the thought of my trousers falling at any moment to astounded passersby and as my hubby related an event that I did not listen to but dutifully smiled and nodded (which reaction got me into trouble as I am usually not so docile nor understanding), I scrambled for the best appropriate response. I was looking for something more than "oops." Possibly, I could whisk my hair back, calmly bend over (although I have started to reflexively groan as I bend over my belly), pick up my trousers and nonchalantly say "the paleo diet really does work" with a wink. Alternatively, I could simply continue my stride, add some Fosse hip, wink and firmly state "everybody is wearing these in Milan." Or would simply doing the robot be a better alternative? I didn't have to conclude an option between my genius concoctions, as my belly did a fine job of keeping my trousers alert at their post until I collapsed on the couch with a groan and complained that my life was over. My husband shook this head and immediately went on Amazon. "It's time." I shuddered. "No, no, I still have a few weeks!" I yelled from the couch to no avail as I heard persistent clicking turn to silence and a few solitary clicks, knowing they tolled for my wardrobe.

So now my husband has regained tenancy of his sweats and PJs and en route are maternity pants for a belly that is marching onward in full stride.


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