Transformations

It’s been almost 4 months since I last posted which makes me feel terribly!  I have not been shirking my homemaking duties but I have been very distracted by my growing girth. To give you an idea of my current state, my nickname in the office has gone from Lil Sista to Big Mama and the AM New York newspaper distributors encourage me “slow and steady”  as I make my way to the top of the subway stairs at Bryant Park. The blog is not the only thing that has taken a back seat as my physical capabilities are stretched thin and my mental faculties are otherwise preoccupied. The dinner parties I’ve recently hosted, while lovely, have been prepared using tried and true recipes and served on, dare I say it, paper plates (though metallic, with matching mercury glass votives). Despite my fears of bad hosting etiquette, I gladly welcome the assistance of my lovely guests who insist on loading my dishwasher while I lounge. In some ways, the pregnancy has improved my hosting skills. I’m so grateful to spend the evening at home with friends who will linger, I have taken to baking a killer chocolate cake for dessert (and the next day’s breakfast).

I’m not planning on going full mom blogger on ya’ll but bear with me here as I’ve had 9 months to fill my brain with all things pregnancy, birth and baby related. I’ve learned a lot, no thanks to the three separate copies of Vicky Iovine’s inane Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy I was gifted. The (former) Mrs. Iovine’s best chapter is about sexy dreams during pregnancy but I won’t spoil it for you. The tone that many of these pregnancy books (Jenny McCarthy, I’m looking at you) and e-newsletters use to relay information to expectant mothers is infuriating.  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the daily emails I recieve from WhattoExpect.com with subject headings such as:

• Insomnia • Puffy Cheeks • Coping with Varicose Veins • Anxiety and Fear • Coping with Heartburn, • and my all time favorite, Feeling Not-So-Confident

I view these emails as part of a large pharmaceutical and baby product industry led conspiracy. Walk, run or waddle to the store, pregnant ladies! Stock up on TUMs and while you’re there, check out the hundreds of unnecessary products you might need for your fetus. I’ve managed to avoid pregnant consumerism by reminding myself that newborn babies only need food, warmth, shelter and LOVE.  I’m thrilled that my faith doesn’t do baby showers.  Right about now, the last thing I want to be doing is donning a “cute” maternity dress and sitting in the middle of a massive group of well wishing female relatives and friends who want to touch my stomach and coo over infant shoes.

The only serious coping I’ve been doing is surviving a major wardrobe downsizing.   Some days the lack of options is a great excuse to linger in bed, plus, my closet has never looked neater. I didn’t want to spend a ton of cash on shapeless maternity clothes and I thought I’d be able to wing it with loose tops I own and the few excellent pairs of maternity jeans passed down by my sister in law. If you’re in the market, make sure to get pants with the stretchy belly panel and NOT the elastic waist bands which will give your bump a horrible chafing! I bought a few knit shirts from GapBody in the largest size (beware of shrinkage) and even spent a small amount ending in $0.99 at Old Navy whose bright colors and juvenile silhouettes made me feel like a teen mom. My can’t-live-without purchases include a pair of black corduroy leggings from ASOS Maternity (an excellent stop for the trendy pregnant crowd),   and pair of black and white throwback Adidas kicks (NOT the high heeled kind that girls everywhere are rocking).  A dear friend gifted me a pair of $12.99 pleather leggings which I love(for when I want a little more shake, rattle and roll.

i never take these off.

I highly recommend being pregnant in the winter months as the baby is your personal furnace and wearing fuzzy boots is universally acceptable! The only downside of my all black uniform is that my husband refers to me as the mime.  I know hes secretly pleased I borrow his sweaters because he no longer has to fold them and put them away.

It turns out though, that I’m not the only one going through a transformation. I recently noticed that my subway crush, an olive skinned pint sized, Alexander Wang toting fashionista who embodies the perfect girl meets boy style, wears studded wellies on rainy days and gets off at 34th street, shaved her hair off! My slow and awkward gait down the subway corridor (Waddling is real, consider yourself warned) allowed me to get a good look at her and I could not believe what I saw. She went from a pouty lipped and brooding cutie to a Robin Tunney look alike, circa Empire Records (thanks to my pal,  Itinerant Daughter for the tip)

what a bad ass

Her revolutionary new do or lack thereof blew my mind and gave us something more than a subway line in common. In my all black stretch outfit, I could identify with the manifestation of her Goth self.

At the risk of sounding cliche, throughout this pregnancy, I’ve been thinking about the importance of embracing change,  confronting my limits and ignoring all the haters who will stymie this growth with the plague of doubt.   Its a mental exercise that has forced me to to relinquish my reliance on thinking through a tried and true perspective in favor of a new outlook, which isn’t even all that clear.

Letting go is really difficult!  My amazing sister recently stopped by to help me “edit” my closet to make room for the new baby. This organizational session turned into a ruthless disposal of many years worth of vintage items I collected but don’t really wear.  Into the Goodwill bag went a pair of white iridescent pumps that I used to pair with skinny jeans and a Member’s Only jacket in tribute to the 80s; another spiky pair in gold lame, one size too big, that my mom yelled at me for wearing to my brother’s bar mitzvah; a pair of Etonic KM blue sneakers passed down by my roommate’s rad mom; red and gold disco queen sandals; and an iconic blue purse with the interlocking Gucci logo, whose strap is hanging by a thread, too far gone to be repaired.   I leave you dear readers, with a few pictures to immortalize my taste in vintage footwear and accessories and to make my process of bidding farewell a bit easier. Here is to the memories of the good old days and in honor of all the ones that are yet to come!IMG_0227 IMG_0225 IMG_0228

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