Change

Being pregnant changes you.

There's the (nearly) bursting into tears when watching vaguely-sentimental films or during a particularly difficult discussion at work (ouch). There's the nearly ripping people's heads off for being cruel to children (the thing you hear about grizzlies killing people when they happen to be too close to their young? I can relate to that) and then, of course, most importantly, there's the wardrobe.

I finally caved in and bought my first pair of maternity jeans last weekend, at 17 weeks. Before that I just looked ridiculous, now they almost seemed to fit. Almost, because in the absence of salespeople, I bought a size too big. Brilliant. Of course, once you try them on, you don't want to wear anything else anymore.

So today I braved the most horrible thing one can face... a shop with actual saleswomen....
See, I'm used to the big clothing multinationals where the only staff you'll see are the ones making sure you don't steal anything in the fitting rooms, are hanging clothes back or are working themselves into a sweat at the tills. Since I'm apparently a giant (since when is 1m80 abnormal?) none of their "standard" trousers fit me. None. I end up looking like Steve Urkel in all of them. So I went to a more expensive shop, one with people who come up to you and say "Can I help you?". And more than that... I let them help me! And they were nice. Imagine that.
I even came back home with two pairs of trousers that fit! (One of them is the same pair I already have, but a size smaller...)
And then I went to a different shop (without help) and actually found some tops that show of The Bump.
For A Bump it is at the moment.

Yay.