Say. You there. Do you hear that? The sound of revelry in the distance? True, it is faint, but ever growing. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of people carousing in the streets. They are banging on trashcans, blowing their car horns, startling women with exuberant and unexpected kisses on the mouth. It’s because they know about today. Today is the day when…
I zipped up my pre-pregnancy jeans.
Though I have been exercising, though I have been eating as though I am a candidate for sainthood, I tried these jeans knowing I would not be able to pull them past my kneecaps. But up they crept. Surely, I thought, these jeans cannot cover my bum. But there they are! Clearly I will never be able to button and zip them again in this lifetime. And then? Snap! Zooop!
I. Am. Wearingmyprepregnancyjeans!
Of course, it’s not possible for me to breathe in them, but that didn’t stop me from tearing into the living room to do an elaborate burlesque for Bryan.
“How do you like that, baby? Uh! You remember these jeans? Oh yeah you do. These jeans have missed you, baby. Can you hear this zipper screaming for mercy? That’s niiiiiiiice. You like this muffin top? It’s all yours. Uh! Awwwwwwww yeaaaaaaah.”
And though I am currently standing as I type this because it is impossible to sit down without inviting a medical emergency, I think we can safely say that I look hot.