terror

so, i woke up pretty early this morning, which is never fun. i did have the perk of wishing my mom and my aunt safe travels before they departed for florida this morning. i'm not typically a morning person, so i was really dragging. i couldn't decide what to wear, or whether i wanted to wear contact lenses or glasses, etc. i just was indecisive and slow, which is deadly when trying to get to work early.

i own a large amount of black, stretchy pants, and these have become particularly popular in my wardrobe, as i am currently 22 weeks pregnant. i have different types for each mood or type of ensemble. i have slacks with wide legs, regular legs, with pinstripes, and my "skinny" pants. this morning, i was feeling my skinny pants and pulled them out for a quick runover with my iron.

i noticed how small they looked, and thought, "hey! maybe my ass isn't as big as i thought! i should stop being so hard on myself!" i ironed over the crease and thought, "that went smoothly! they were so jacked up last time from being folded, i thought this would be difficult!" i noticed how straight the creases were and thought, "dag, maybe i didn't mess these up as bad as i thought i did last time." when i finished ironing them last time i had double creases (one was going diagonally up my pant leg!), due to my mastery of the time-honored skill of being impatient, and trying to hurry up.

i shook the pants out and admired my ironing prowess and went back to the bedroom to finish dressing my top half. i came out to put on my perfectly ironed pants and started with my first leg. i noticed that it was a little snug. no matter! i was wearing tights (because it was COLD this morning) and figured, "they're just adding friction...", and that this issue would resolve itself once i got the pants up. i put the other leg and noticed the same resistance, but continued to think nothing of it. once i pulled the pants up to my thighs, i noticed the resistance had gone from slight to "slow your muthafuckin' roll". but i thought, "these pants have stretch, it should be okay! proceed as originally planned!" so i continued to pull the pants up and could not get them past mid-hip....

i was horrified as i looked in the full-length mirror and noticed a web of fabric stretched bizarrely across my legs from the knee up. this was the crotch of the pants, splayed across the lower half of my body in an obscene, unnatural, manner. it looked as if i was some sort of botched experiment from the tv show "fringe". this was enhanced by the fact that i had double (and pregnant belly) muffin top from both my tights and the too-small pants, my hair wasn't done and frizzed all about my head, and i'm sure i was grunting and squealing. the metamorphasis was almost complete!

what immediately played back in my brain was all the bacon cheeseburgers and ice cream i've consumed over this pregnancy. all of the pancakes with tons of butter and syrup, all of the french fries and potatoes in various crispy forms. all of the steaks and cookies, and CANDY! i was immediately remorseful and cursed my lack of discipline. I JUST WORE THESE PANTS LAST WEEK! HOW COULD MY ASS HAVE GROWN THAT MUCH THAT I COULDN'T GET THEM UP JUST A WEEK LATER???? i grew paranoid and thought, "is this how the rest of the pregnancy going to be? i'm going to have to walk around naked then, because I'LL BE DAMNED IF I HAVE TO BUY BIGGER CLOTHES! I JUST FUCKING BOUGHT THESE!" i had visions of having to be lifted out of bed by a mechanical device and having the walls cut down in the apartment to get out when i went into labor because i was going to be SO FUCKING BIG!

there were almost tears... then i thought, "fuck that! i'm not going down without a fight!" and went back to my dresser and pulled out my still wearable spanx-type undergarment. i put it on, and went back out to do battle and get those DAMN PANTS ON! i was prepared to win at all costs, including my fingernails, which i could imagine snapping off from strain of trying to pull these pants over my gargantuan ass. i ran out of the bedroom back to the ironing board breathless with anticipation, picked up the pants, and thought again, "damn! these look small!" i looked at them, looked them all over, and thought, "let's take a little looksie at the label." upon inspecting the label, i discovered why my ample ass could not be folded, forced, greased, or sewn into those pants... they were a size 8.

i blinked slowly a couple times, and my brain continuously ran "DO NOT COMPUTE! DO NOT COMPUTE! DO NOT COMPUTE!" like CNN newsfeed. i continued to blink and stare with my mouth agape in the early morning light. how in the BLUE FUCK did i get a pair of size 8 pants in this house? why were they here? MATERNITY PANTS to boot! someone had some explaining to do and fast.

i looked over to the couch where a black ball of clothing lay in a heap. hmmm, what was THAT? i should note that my incredibly kind co-worker gifted me with some of her gently used maternity gear, for which i was very grateful. i could wear the tops, but seeing that she is a smaller person than me, the bottoms were problematic. these bottoms had been in a bag, which was resting under the ironing board. in my early morning haze, i had picked up that skinny bitch's (she's a very nice lady, really) size 8 maternity pants and ironed those instead of my XL "skinny" pants, which were waiting for their time to shine, balled up in a wrinkled lump on the couch.

i am an idiot.

the size 8 pants' reign of terror came to a hurried end, as i ironed the CORRECT SIZE pants, and easily slipped them over my pregnant expanse. but for a moment this morning, i was in a state of sheer PANIC! let this be a lesson to you all... turn on the fucking lights when you iron in the morning. TURN THEM LIGHTS ALL THE WAY ON!! also, i ironed and changed my shirt 3 times while getting ready... i am a wonder to behold in the morning.