The phrase “pants on the ground” takes on new meaning in maternity. Early on, when Reed’s baby bump was just that–a bump, I wore the belly band to keep my regular pants from exposing my crack or allowing my pants to fall to my ankles during a meeting at work. Though the belly band is raved about among maternity circles I must say it’s not a perfect solution. During my day, the band and pants would separate so that under my shirt I resembled a white trash pregnant chick sporting a tube top.
Eventually, once the Reed bump developed in to a small mountain I graduated to full fledged maternity pants. I wish I could sing the various praises of the exalted maternity pant. Alas, I cannot. As with stilettos and the strapless bra, I am convinced these banded pants were created by a man. I find myself constantly pulling them up and wishing for old man suspenders. It’s much like the discomfort most women feel wearing tight undergarments except these are your pants. If they fall, humiliation, degradation will ensue. Keeping them on ensures you still have a shred of dignity in spite of your co-worker constantly asking how much weight you’ve gained and whether you’ve taken the glucose tolerance test yet. As long as you can still hold on to your pants, you’re still somewhat human.
All in all traveling pants and shaky pride are a small price to pay. Of course, if Reed ever asks I’ll tell him I just don’t know how I survived the months of pants wrestling and a big, fat belly. (I won’t have to mention the part where I actually enjoyed it.)