First things first. Totally unrelated to my current state of mind, I’ve included a pic of myself trying on a formal maternity dress ordered from Isabella Oliver online. I share it in case any other preggos are looking for evening wear and find it difficult to discern what works based on the statuesque stick figures with baby bumps displayed in the pictures. My Limey and I are going to The BAFTA Awards next week (leave it to me to be the size of a house the first time I get to go to a big Hollywood Awards shindig… albeit a British one), and I was thrilled to find something that wouldn’t have me feeling like a (pot-bellied) tree amidst the twigs.
Straight from the package...
Granted, who knows how I’ll feel in an hour (nevermind next Thursday), but you get the point: I liked this enough to post a less than flattering cell phone self-portrait. If you’re not familiar, Isabella Oliver’s clothes are fantastic looking and not outrageous. Not cheap, but if this dress is any indicator (in terms of fit and feel), worth it! Though it’s hard to tell with my master photography, the material (”caviar black” is the color… ooh, la la!) is slightly shiny and super soft with built-in side pockets (a favorite attribute of mine when it comes to evening wear). Plus, it has adjustable panels that mean it can be worn in multiple ways: around the arms to form cap sleeves, over one shoulder for an uber-current feel or, as I have it here, wrapped below the bust to create a strapless! Obviously I have yet to dress it up/form a look around it (I just wanted to see if it fit), but I think it’s going to be a keeper. And if nothing else, I can tell myself it’s three dresses for the price of one. Translation: J will just have to take me out two more times, to places fancy enough to wear it… before I pop.
Now, onto more pressing matters. Or not, as you’ll soon see…
Having spent the last two days feeling considerably better than the two before, I find myself faced with a dilemma: what the hell am I supposed to blog about? After all, it’s no wonder that the great books, movies and songs are about inner conflict and doubt, heartbreak and disappointment… albeit sometimes linked to finding faith despite them. Nobody cares about someone who is getting along quite nicely, thanks. And that’s where I am today. Reasoned. Relaxed. Absent of judgment or self loathing. Not too worried about accomplishing anything. Aware that there are things to do, but willing to let them slide for the day. Content. I guess you could say that I’m giving over to the master, who in this case happens to be all of 4lbs, 13 oz (or was as of Monday), and resides in my belly.
Trouble is, that leaves me with nothing to say here. Not only is drama more interesting to read, dear reader, it’s a hell of a lot easier to write about, too! Whenever I’m struggling at whatever level (whether in a really dramatic or impossibly comedic sense – both of which seem to strike my life relatively often), the urge to wax philosophical takes hold. When I’m not in crisis however (a rare state, I must admit), well… what is there for me to ramble on about? At the moment, I can sum it up pretty simply: I’m fat. I’m tired. My hips hurt… Who cares?
Though it’s taken me 32 weeks, 5 days to figure it out, I can finally see that there is no rhyme or reason to growing a human being. Some days are good, some days are bad, some days vacillate back and forth. I’ve just got to learn to relinquish control.
Easier said than done, no doubt, especially for someone like me. Yet, though I know this seemingly sane state of mind can’t last for long, for the moment, I’m going to try my best to enjoy it. How, you ask? For starters, there’s a stack of Netflix on the dining room table with my name on it!
Tags: isabella oliver, maternity clothes, mood swings, peace, Pregnancy, pregnancy eveningwear
