Gratuitous Bitching

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS GRATUITOUS BITCHING ABOUT SH*T YOU PROBABLY DON'T CARE ABOUT:


I'd like to know who in the retail universe made the executive decision to shove the maternity "section" in the furthest corner of the store, and by "section" I mean the back wall of the plus sized section hidden by sharp pointy clothing stands that is almost impossible to squeeze your non exisistant waistline through. WTF. Seriously people, it's depressing enough that I have to wear these atrocious polyester nightmares, but is it really necessary to position them in a way that requires me to waddle all the way to the back of the store only to jam my fat a$$ between the sharp pointy clothing racks and the emergency exit? It seems to be a requirement of all department stores to organize the maternity "department" like this, unless the store is actually a maternity wear store, bc 99% of all retail stores I have waddled through to look for clothing only contains a wall, hidden, and almost unattainable. If it's completely necessary to do this, they should atleast offer me a tram, or valet parking, since a lot of the stores don't have mother/infant preferred parking.




While I'm on my "let's bitch about being pregnant" rant, I'm going to address the maternity fashion (or there lack of) issue. Unless your budget allows for $150 designer jeans with matching $80 shirt, you have a choice of the following trends:


Elderly Floridian



Circus Tent



Ugly Baby Doll



If the maternity designers goal was to create the most hideous, unflattering apparel using the cheapest looking material, they have succeeded. I have a hell of a time with the pants bc I'm not only pregnant in my belly, but also my thighs, ba-donk, and arms. Oh yes the puffiness has settled in a way that makes getting dressed a depressing tearful event. Regardless of what size I buy, the elastic slips off my belly, dragging my under roos with it, and causes the crotch part of the pants to sag to the middle of my thighs. Really attractive. I'm doing the "Urkel" dance hourly as not to moon any unsuspecting bystanders.