Skinny is Overrated

The day we came home from the hospital after saying hello and goodbye to Malia, I walked into our bedroom and there were clothes spread out on our dressers and bed. (My mom is awesome and did our laundry while we were gone). On one dresser was a tall pile of clothes that I had taken out of my drawers and closet the week before. In the stack were various pants and shirts that didn’t fit any longer. I had gained 13 pounds, and was planning on gaining at least 10 more. So, I thought it was more important to have more room in my drawers than staring at clothes I couldn’t even wear.

In the grief of arriving home that afternoon, I had this strong urge to continue with my plan to put those clothes under my bed and simply wear maternity clothes every day. It’s so interesting that as an American woman, I have had this desire to be thin my whole life — but, this week rather than buttoning my old jeans for the first time, I would give anything to I see my baby belly grow and grow.

The size of pants I can fit into isn’t on my priority list anymore.


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