Dear Workout Clothes,
Thanks for being there for me during this pregnancy. You understand me. You understand my plight. And it's time to publicly acknowledge how how awesome you've been.
I mean, my maxi dresses and leggings have been great, too. They don't care about the weight I'm gaining and they just keep on stretchin' to accommodate this little beach ball I'm toting around. And my palazzo pants are hanging in there like champs, playing along when I pretend that the Mediums are suitable when really I need to move it on up to a Large. I have a wonderful wardrobe of clothes, nay, friends. Is it wrong to call my clothes friends? Well if it is, then I don't want to be right. You guys are working overtime to help me look like Kim K Pregnancy #2 and less like Kim K Pregnancy #1. (Google it. Go ahead, I'll wait.) And for that, I thank you.
But you go above and beyond, Workout Clothes. You don't stop at just accommodating my slowly accumulating pounds, you do so much more.
When the heat index here in
But you, Workout clothes, with your dry-fit material and your normal waistbands, are there for me on the especially hot days, just letting me sweat it out without so much as a pit stain. I don't have to worry about passing out in the Target parking lot because I tried to look cute in something less practical because you have my six and you're not gonna let that happen on your watch. You are the real heroes, Workout Clothes.
And you don't stop there.
You really bring it home by making it look like I'm actually going to work out! When I go to the grocery store with you, people look at me and think, "Wow, look at that pregnant lady in her workout clothes. Did she just run a 5K? Maybe she does yoga early in the morning and then just runs around town, doing her errands without sweating! She is truly an admirable woman and I would like to be more like her!" But we know better, don't we Workout Clothes? We know that I only look like I just came from spin class and really I'm only sporting this getup because my little pig hooves are too swollen for normal shoes and I can't afford to sweat through my third maxi dress today. So I throw you on and loosen the laces on my running shoes and we keep each others secrets as we drive through the McD's drive through for that Oreo McFlurry that I've been craving. You are the Bonnie to my Clyde, Workout Clothes.
And I know you'll still be there postpartum when I'm sleep deprived and un-showered and covered in spit up. You won't judge when I decide to actually get back in shape, then think better of it and eat more McFlurries. And I know I'm not the only pregnant woman you're holding it down for. You're out there, selflessly serving the mama's of the world, doing the thankless work that all wardrobe pieces should aspire to.
Keep up the hard work, Workout Clothes. And thank you, from the bottom of my pregnant heart.