Do you guys remember when I got some really big underpants for Christmas, and what a glorious day that was for me?
And do you remember when I was in the hospital in the beginning of April and a nurse spilled ice water all over me by accident and I asked Phil to bring me some big underpants and I realized that I had previously had no real idea of how truly enormous underpants could really be?
And then remember how I wore those truly enormous underpants for the rest of my pregnancy, and, okay, for a while after delivery as well?
Well, anyway, all of that happened.
I had my c-section over three weeks ago now, and I held absolutely no illusions of my body springing – ok, doughily molding – itself back into shape. I was pleased, however, to find out that at two weeks after Penny’s birth, I’d lost 20 of the 23 pounds I had gained during the pregnancy.
And please bear in mind that I’m using the word “lost” here like, “Oh, dear, I’ve lost 20 lbs. Did I drop them? Are they behind the sofa? Damnit.” You know. The definition of “lost” where something kind of just vanishes without any intent or effort on your part. Not the definition of “lost” that means I was eating right or exercising or anything.
And also bear in mind that while I had lost (“lost”) 20 lbs by the scale’s measurement, my body in NO WAY reflected that I was 3 lbs away from what I had weighed before all of this started. I mean, in NO WAY.
So, I kept wearing the big underpants. And the gigantic basketball shorts. And the floppy pajama pants. And maternity jeans. Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to buy myself some kind of in between wardrobe. Not that I’ve got too much pride to buy some “fat(er) clothes” or to motivate myself to get back into my somewhat less floppy former shape, but because, come on. I will not spend money on temporary clothing when I have perfectly good clothing right here.
Also? I don’t know if you’ve had a baby and immediately lost a good chunk of weight but were left looking at your current shape and wondering if you were trapped in some kind of alternate dimension where “lost 20 lbs” actually means “deflated 20 lbs of flesh until it was good and squishy and relocated it to a weird position where such flubber would never appear on its own.” I don’t know if you’ve done that, but you will have to imagine with me that clothes shopping doesn’t seem like it would be any kind of easy.
Like, you know how magazines are always breaking down jeans by body shape? Like hourglass or pear or whatever? (BY THE WAY, why do those things always give you options for big bust OR big hips? Attention, ladies – you may only have ONE large portion of your body, or else there are no clothes out there for you.)
Right, anyway, so you’re supposed to shop for clothes by body shape, and after a c-section, I can only imagine it going like this, if I were to go shopping for some in between jeans:
“Ok, I think I’m a pear – you know, kind of heavy on the bottom? Except, maybe a double pear? Do you have anything for double pear? Like, I’m heavy on the bottom, and then above the bottom of the pear, there’s a second pear bottom? I mean, one pear bottom on top of the other pear bottom. Double pear. Except, the top bottom – are you following me here? The top bottom would be maybe a rotten pear. Not that I’m spoiling or something. I mean that it’s softer than the bottom bottom, which I guess would be normal pear. More firm, as compared to the top bottom, which is squishy. Except, the bottom bottom is kind of squishy, too. But the top bottom is more squishy. I mean, you can move the whole top bottom to wherever you want. Kind of like play doh? But I can’t just move it away. It would have to go in the jeans as well. So, what I’m saying is, I need some jeans for a double pear. A DOUBLE FUCKING PEAR. OH MY GOD. JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING ELASTIC.”
Right. So. I continue to wear maternity jeans and enormous underpants. Or, at least, I did continue to wear the most enormous of enormous underpants up until a few days ago, when I noticed that the space between me and the waistband had increased dramatically. The elastic isn’t even being strained anymore. It’s not even elastic-ing at all. I was having to find ways to hide an unsightly bulge of bunched up underpants under the elastic panel of the maternity jeans that I will continue to wear and I don’t even care what anyone has to say about it.
Problem was, though, that my standard underpants are not up to the challenge of the DOUBLE PEAR.
So, much to my disgust, I had to go out and purchase some new big underpants. BIG underpants. Not enormous underpants. They’re just plain big. My enormous underpants were at least comical in their hugeness. I’ve been downgraded now. Downgraded to plain old big underpants. Underpants that could conceivably be of an appropriate size to fit me for some time to come, without even a giggle or a snort at the sight of them. If you’ve got to wear big ol’ granny underpants, there’s something to be said for being able to tuck them into your bra, you know? I mean, your underpants are big, but they’re HILARIOUS. But now? Now my underpants cover a sensible amount of butt and fit perfectly just below my belly button. I cannot TELL YOU how disappointed I was when my new big underpants fit just right.
They’re not even FUNNY. They’re just BIG.
A comparison for you:
Me: What will I do with all of my enormous underpants?
Phil: Build a sail?