First Trimester Style Reflections

Lifestyle + Family

*At the time of writing this, 2020 had not yet 2020’d itself. Now firmly in (almost past) my second trimester, I thought it was more than time for some first trimester style reflections. Okay, carry on…

I’ve never cited myself as a “style blogger”. Talking about fashion & style in an interesting way seemed like a difficult task and, to be frank, a boring one. Why would anyone want to know what pants I have on? They are pants – two legs and a butt. It also seemed a bit intimidating – there’s just so much out there and so much to keep up with. I’m not a guru or any such thing, just a pretty average chick who likes wearing things. What angle could I possibly add to make that interesting? Basically I’m just not good at it. 


Smash cut to the first 2 months of 2020. 

I’ve worn the same size jeans since college – and, suddley, as the weeks of housing a small human progressed I noticed these pants getting …tighter. This was very confusing to me as I have no discernable “bump” at the time of writing this – but I found myself wearing long shirts so I could unbutton my pants at will for relief without the general public’s knowledge. Add to that the fact that we were not telling anyone except close friends & family until we were through the first trimester – which meant hiding the ever present bloat in creative clothing choices. I also learned that your waistline thickens before the bump protrudes (if you didn’t know, now you know). Pants – which had seemed like a straightforward concept hitherto have now become tricky territory.


The saving grace in this conundrum of sorts has been the presence of winter and my continuing love affair of shopping in the men’s section (seriously ladies, go hit up the men’s section of Target for slim fitting but comfy sweaters and t-shirts. You’re welcome). No one really had much reason to be suspicious that my sweaters were bulky and long. But I still found my current wardrobe tricky to navigate as high waisted jeans & fitted shirts was my norm. This, to put it in plain English, was not finna work. 


At first I got a bit bent out of shape. What was I supposed to do with a closet full of clothes that would be ineffective until somewhere closer to 2021? But then, I saw it. #Epiphany.


That is – my life is changing in approximately 13,296 ways in the coming months – why can’t my style be included in this evolution? I’ve never been pregnant before. I’ve never been a mom. What an opportunity to wear things I’ve never worn & take some risks? I mean – the occasion to literally HAVE to acquire a new wardrobe has never landed on my doorstep, and here it is. Oh the thrifting, upcycling & shopping possibilities. Dresses ya’ll – I’m wearing dresses and if you know me I typically reserve that for weddings, every 8th date night, and ummm…hmmm…I think maybe that’s it. 


Instead of mourning the things that no longer serve the way my life is trending, I’ve decided to take all opportunities to embrace all upcoming newness. When in denial about the ways in which life is changing we hold on to what’s familiar – even though it doesn’t fit – past fears, coping mechanisms, behaviors, habits, language, thoughts, bras – and we try to force new things into old spaces. Like me trying to fit into my Fashion Nova high waisted super skinny jeans – if you look from the back I’m killing the game in a thicker-than-a-snicker fashion, but one look at the underworkings and it’s an entire struggle being held together by a valiant zipper that is looking to give up on life at any moment to go be with the Lord.


It’s so much more freeing, albeit a slight bit uncomfortable due to unfamiliarity, to embrace the current season and let go of what doesn’t belong. Because eventually, when you force the fit it becomes unavoidable, unhidable and will have you out here looking like Rachel when she was overdue with Emma – maybe physically, maybe metaphorically – but what I’m saying is your stagnancy is showing – and it ain’t cute. 


So here’s to all of my pants making me feel like a stuffed sausage. They are telling me it’s time to move on in so, so many ways. You, however, don’t need a whole baby or a first trimester style reflection moment of your own to push you into your new season. Or let go of the old one. All you have to do is make a decision. What will it be?


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