Weekend shopping trip

I schlepped to the mall yesterday with two purchases in mind. One I knew would be relatively simple. The other I knew would be extremely difficult. I was right. Funny that the easy purchase cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars more than the hard one.

My first stop was the Apple store, where I bought a new MacBook Pro to replace my trusty iBook that died a few weeks ago. The decision of which laptop to buy took all of 10 minutes. It would have taken far less if I hadn’t had to wade through dozens of teenagers who use the store like the 21st-century arcade that it is. I even scored a free printer. (Anyone need a printer? I already have one.)

Then it was on to Purchase No. 2, which I knew would be a long, tedious process that would frustrate me to no end and quite possibly leave me in tears.

Clearly, I was searching for a decent pair of maternity jeans.

I understand the challenge faced by maternity jeans manufacturers, I really do. They’re trying to create an article of clothing that a woman can wear for a period of time during which her waistline is growing exponentially, and often her hips, thighs and butt are taking on proportions not previously seen on her delicate frame as well. I can’t imagine trying to come up with such a magical pair of pants.

I am here to tell you they haven’t done it yet.

When I was pregnant with Kostyn I skated by with one decent pair of maternity jeans that fit and a whole lot of freebies and hand-me-downs and discount store finds that didn’t. Having just one pair was fine when I spent most of the week in office attire. But now I’m pretty much in jeans every day. I need more than one pair.

So, to the stores I turned. And turned, and turned. The first problem is that apparently those maternity jeans manufacturers think only short women get pregnant. This is not true! Most of the jeans that fit me fine through the hips stopped somewhere above the ankles. So discouraging. And then there’s the extra fabric they sew into the jeans in the oddest places. I expect the waist to be a bit big, the thighs to be roomy. But why does there seem to be an extra panel of fabric in the back, above the pockets and below the waist? The baby is growing in the FRONT people, not the back. The small of my back is not getting any larger.

Besides that, maternity jeans are just generally uncomfortable. The "rise" of any pair of maternity jeans is for some reason so big the crotch hangs somewhere around mid-thigh. This makes sitting and standing and walking around a complete chore, because every movement requires a readjustment of the jeans. You’re forever hitchin’ ‘em up and fixing the waist, and you end up hating your BODY when you should be hating the JEANS.

And there’s something about that stupid belly band that’s sewn into the waistline that leaves a LOT to be desired too. For those who aren’t schooled in maternity jeans, here’s the lowdown: They take an already oddly proportioned pair of jeans and rip out the waistline -- gone are buttons, zippers, and belt loops. In their place they sew a band of stretchy fabric that doubles as a tube top when you pull it all the way up on your torso. Seriously, it’s that much fabric.

I asked the salesperson at one maternity clothing store where all the jeans were that didn’t have that gigantic body sock attached to it, and she said the manufacturers were all making these kinds of maternity jeans now because “97 percent of pregnant women prefer it.” Really, 97 percent? I’m part of only 3 percent of self-respecting women who don’t want a leg-warmer holding up their jeans and doubling as a bra? Shame on you, girls.

And then, THEN, when you finally give up on the ridiculousness of the waist and the rise and the inseam, because you’re just that desperate and you simply can’t wear sweatpants EVERY day, you turn around to check out your ass in the mirror and you find tiny baby rhinestones sewn onto the pockets. Almost without fail! Like a little sparkly “baby on board” sign, adding bling to an area most pregnant women do NOT want to highlight.

Rhinestones, as far as I’m concerned, do not belong on any article of clothing worn by anyone over the age of 10. But on a pair of jeans for a pregnant woman? It’s absurd. Are they trying to distract us from how horrible the jeans feel and fit? “Look back here! See how cute and fun and flirty I am!”

In the end, I bought two pairs. Miraculously, both cover my ankles. Unfortunately, both have rhinestones.

Less than four months left to wear these stupid things...