So in denial

So yesterday it had been a whole two weeks since I had to get dressed up to go to church, thanks to General Conference. A lot can happen to a woman's pregnant body in two weeks' time. I had a perfectly acceptable outfit in mind- a non-maternity skirt with a stretchy waistband, a non-maternity empire-styled shirt, and a stretchy solid-colored non-maternity T-shirt to wear underneath. And because I had this outfit clearly prepared in my mind, I allowed myself 5 minutes' time to get dressed before leaving for our 3pm church time.

I changed out of my husband's T-shirt (because that's not acceptable to wear to church, darn it!) and when I went to the bathroom mirror to appraise my outfit, I looked like a pregnant girl trying to look, um, not pregnant. My shirts were clearly too short at this point, and my wide stretchy skirt waistband was definitely and embarrassingly visible.

Then ensued a whirlwind of trying on other clothes, changing shoes, lamenting the fact that I can no longer wear what I used to, and telling myself that my clothing identity is being destroyed. I have only purchased two maternity skirts, one in black and one in a biegey-khaki. That's the same philosophy I applied to purchasing a work wardrobe when I was a poor college student, because a girl can make everything go with black and khaki pants. I'm cheap and practical and there is no one to impress in my ward.

I realized in horror that I hadn't yet ironed my beige skirt, so I had to change to black shoes to go with the more formal black skirt. And then I cursed myself for having to cut tags from two maternity shirts. I changed my mind about which shirt to wear because clearly the green print didn't harmonize with my formal, pleated black box of a maternity skirt. I settled on a white button-up shirt that was pleated right above the belly. Poor Chad- I was in a panicked frenzy and yelling for him to get my stretchy white shirt out of the closet, the white one, not the off-white one. You should have seen him when he accidentally brought me the off-white shirt.

All during church I kept pushing those shirt pleats down as they billowed up around my tummy as I sat. But it was all worth it because I sat in the back of Relief Society and joked with this cool girl during the lesson. When the instructor was listing on the chalk board the differences between the Aaronic and Melchezedek Priesthood, I joked to my neighbor that because we weren't guys we didn't have to learn those differences. After all, we had the Young Women theme memorized.