I have nothing to wear, NOTHING!  Okay, so we might have a case of the girl who cried wolf here.  I am going to give my husband the benefit of the doubt and assume that is why he doesn’t sympathize.  I have disrespected these five simple words in the past.  Stated them because I was bored with my wardrobe or was just having one of those nothing looks good enough kind of nights.  Now here I am, knocked up, gaining weight by the day, practically by the minute at this point, and I have nothing to wear is no longer an exaggeration, it is depressingly and frustratingly true.

Hello silver lining, because there is always good news mixed in with the bad.  I love to shop.  Simple as that.  And, I seriously think a shoppers high exists, something like the runner’s high I’ve heard of, but more expensive.  I am smiling because I have the ultimate excuse to indulge and unlike the rest of the world (or those I had dinner with last night) I am not too hung over to get an early Saturday start (see, another one of those silver linings just popping up out of nowhere). 

I am more of a sprinter than a marathon shopper.  I don’t look, I buy.  After all, time is money, so if I am saving time I have more money to spend, really it’s just simple math.  I have a mental list and am designing items in my head as I drive to a fab (or so I heard from a pregnant friend) store that is stocked with clothes that will fit.  Funny how that is suddenly my criteria, I used to search for a specific designer and now I just want to be able to breathe and wear pants all at the same time.  It takes awhile to get to the one stylish maternity boutique and by the time I pull up my mental list has become a full blown storyline starring Michael Kors and yours truly complete with theme music to compliment my insanity.

Back to reality, I am here and already feeling giddy.  Cue the choir ladies, this is Pregnant Girl heaven.  Brands I recognize, made especially for us.  I am grabbing at Michael Stars maternity tees, Paige maternity jeans that have a band so secretive nobody will even know they are maternity (don’t worry, you can have them too) and Juicy Couture sweats that are going to cover my growing butt and belly.  I have to calm myself down.  Picture a six year old shoveling all the candy he can in his mouth before mom comes in and says no more or, even worse, he is forced to share with the other kids.  That is me, only we are talking a grown woman and cute clothes that (keyword) fit, and it is like these might be the only stylish maternity items on the planet so I must have them all.  One after another they fit and I feel, wait for it…wait, normal.  There it is, one little word as important as the aforementioned five.  I feel good, even pretty and I must have them all. 

As I wait to purchase my new gems I witness a tragic event.  The woman in front of me pulls out $100 in cash and two credit cards.  She must split the bill three ways so her husband doesn’t realize how much she is spending on her maternity clothes.  Gulp, in my excitement I forgot about my hubby and our baby budget.  Surely he will understand the necessity…right?  Why doesn’t her husband understand?  Do any of them understand?

Cliffhanger ladies, I bought them all, took them home and it wasn’t pretty.  Come back for part two.  His reaction and my reasoning (BTW, my reasons are good, you might even want to keep a couple up your sleeve)…