Oh Happy Day!
Something happened to me today.
Something so wonderful, so stupendous, so looked-forward-to.
Something I didn't expect to occur for at least another month.
I fit into my pre-pregnancy Ralph Lauren jeans.
Well, perhaps fit is too strong a word. I should clarify that I pulled them on, zipped them up, and closely resembled a sausage about to bust out of its casing. But the point is, they were on! And what was the first thing I did after I zipped them up? (If you guessed immediately passed out due to lack of blood flow to my lower body, you would be wrong. Close, but wrong).
I cried.
These are the same jeans I tried on about five days ago and couldn't get the button and button-hole to come within about four inches of each other. After that unsucessful attempt, I hung the jeans in the front of my closet as incentive and told myself that I would wear these jeans by my birthday in early December. Something made me want to try them on again today, so I did. Woo-hoo!
So, I am in said jeans, and go out to show my husband who hasn't seen me in anything but maternity pants since the beginning of this year. The conversation went something like this:
Me: (crying) Look!
Him: (confused look, trying to figure out why I am crying) What happened?!?
Me: (pointing to my pants) Look!
Him: (looking at my legs for signs of injury, and upon seeing none, looks back at my face) What, honey?!?
Me: (crying, pointing to my pants) I am wearing these jeans (sob, sob) and I haven't been able to since January!
Him: (still with the confused look) This is good, right? We're happy?
Me: (still crying but not hard enough not to be sarcastic) Well, duh! Yes, we're happy! These aren't maternity jeans! Geez!
Him: (wondering if our insurance covers psychiatric treatment) Ooo-kaaay. Good. Good girl.
Me: How do they look?
Him: (thinking carefully about his answer) You look really nice. I like your sweater.
Me: (loving him for trying to spare my feelings and not lie at the same time, which he's not very good at but he tries) I know I look like I could blow these things off if I have gas, but I am wearing them anyway! Alright?!?
Him: (slowly backing away with the children) Whatever you say, honey.
Poor guy.
After I poured myself into my jeans, I went out to a nice lunch with my friend, Jessica. The baby behaved in the restaurant and we had a great time solving the problems of the world.
All in all, it was a happy day.
Something so wonderful, so stupendous, so looked-forward-to.
Something I didn't expect to occur for at least another month.
I fit into my pre-pregnancy Ralph Lauren jeans.
Well, perhaps fit is too strong a word. I should clarify that I pulled them on, zipped them up, and closely resembled a sausage about to bust out of its casing. But the point is, they were on! And what was the first thing I did after I zipped them up? (If you guessed immediately passed out due to lack of blood flow to my lower body, you would be wrong. Close, but wrong).
I cried.
These are the same jeans I tried on about five days ago and couldn't get the button and button-hole to come within about four inches of each other. After that unsucessful attempt, I hung the jeans in the front of my closet as incentive and told myself that I would wear these jeans by my birthday in early December. Something made me want to try them on again today, so I did. Woo-hoo!
So, I am in said jeans, and go out to show my husband who hasn't seen me in anything but maternity pants since the beginning of this year. The conversation went something like this:
Me: (crying) Look!
Him: (confused look, trying to figure out why I am crying) What happened?!?
Me: (pointing to my pants) Look!
Him: (looking at my legs for signs of injury, and upon seeing none, looks back at my face) What, honey?!?
Me: (crying, pointing to my pants) I am wearing these jeans (sob, sob) and I haven't been able to since January!
Him: (still with the confused look) This is good, right? We're happy?
Me: (still crying but not hard enough not to be sarcastic) Well, duh! Yes, we're happy! These aren't maternity jeans! Geez!
Him: (wondering if our insurance covers psychiatric treatment) Ooo-kaaay. Good. Good girl.
Me: How do they look?
Him: (thinking carefully about his answer) You look really nice. I like your sweater.
Me: (loving him for trying to spare my feelings and not lie at the same time, which he's not very good at but he tries) I know I look like I could blow these things off if I have gas, but I am wearing them anyway! Alright?!?
Him: (slowly backing away with the children) Whatever you say, honey.
Poor guy.
After I poured myself into my jeans, I went out to a nice lunch with my friend, Jessica. The baby behaved in the restaurant and we had a great time solving the problems of the world.
All in all, it was a happy day.
posted by Missie | 12:10 AM
6 Comments:
Congratulations! You go girl!
Poor hubby. "This is good, right?" The little dears.
hehe Missie, CONGRATS! :) rotfl..I love your hubby's reaction. It made me laugh. :)
Jo
OMG, I did the SAME thing when I fit back into my prepregnancy jeans. I called my hubby at work (after screaming hysterically with joy at home) and he thought I'd lost my mind.
But happy dance for you!! Way to go!!!
Missie, I love you. Please know I say this with the utmost amount of love and sisterhood when I say, I HATE YOUR GUTS!!!
I am going to take that in a good way, Danica! ;) However, please remember that just because I am in my jeans, that doesn't mean they look good on me, nor does it mean my shape is anywhere near where it used to be!
I have so had this conversation. My husband is convinced that we dress for other women since he rarely has a clue what I'm talking about. LOL
mary g
Post a Comment
<< Home