It's been about four months since I had Ellie. Four months of cute squinchy babyness and four months of not-so-cute squinchy belly fat. I know this is part of having a baby. I've gone through it three times now. I'm not complaining (okay, a little), but this four months of squinchy belly fat, it also includes not fitting into ANYTHING. Maternity clothes? I'm steadfastly sticking to the idea that they are way too big. And besides, I have this theory that maternity clothing is secretly laced with food-craving chemicals that cause my body to want to eat and eat and retain it all. So those clothes are boxed and hiding in the garage.
I do have a pair of gaucho-style brown pants, but are those things even acceptable to wear in public anymore? Who knows? I don't go out in public that often, and when I do people are probably too busy staring at the snot on my shoulder or wondering why I can't control my children to notice my pants.
After four months of trying to stuff my new self into my old jeans, and then giving up and putting on basketball shorts, or sweats, I decided a trip to the mall was in order. I hate the mall. I'm pretty sure it's owned by Satan. A stylish and trendy Satan, but nevertheless, Satan.