Must Start Carrying Camera EVERYWHERE

I went to Value Village today in search of muumuus with which to wrap my considerable girth. The last time I went to Value Village I discovered they actually had a maternity section, albeit a small one filled with size S short pants from Old Navy which, no, don’t serve me so well. However, I started there, because a place to start is as good as a rest, and came quickly across several promising maternity garments lacking in waistbands, even the stretchy kind, even the adjustable kind because anytime anything even brushes against my skin-sheathed uterine habitat, the inhabitant pitches an unholy, many-frenzied fit.

(Dear, Sweet Babby2.0: Enough. With. The. Kicking. I get it: you are the yin to your brother’s yang, you are feisty where he is placid, you will give me no end of trouble until the sorrowful and grey-haired end of my days. Can I please have 10 minutes to sit on the couch in peace before all that happens? Or else I am going to start drinking to slow you down.

Shhhhhh, kidding. Don’t drink and breed.)

As I say, I gathered several promising garments, but these from among some of the most frightening clothes I have ever seen. It makes sense: Value Village is a crapshoot at the best of times and maternity clothes are pretty sketchy unless you’re shopping at Generic Retailer X, in which case they look fine until you wash or wear them more than twice, so if you combine the two and throw in a healthy dose of, I think it must have been 1979, you get:

1. Below-the-knee, long-sleeved UltraSuede dress in “Traditional Native American” style, complete with leather ties at the back and beading around the neck. The whole dress weighed about half as much as me. It was a giant, tourist-shop moccasin of a maternity dress and it was made by a company called “MotherWorld” which startled me at first because I thought the label said “Motherwoman” and I was surprised because I never suspected mo-wo and p-man were insane clothing designers but hey, I only know them ever so slightly through the Internet, so – sky’s the limit, right?

2. Another gem by “Motherworld:” an UltraSuede, beaded tank-top with fringe around the hem. Think Cher. Now think Cher, sans plastic surgery (ie: size XXL, so said the label) and pregnant.

3. A baby-doll style dress in the most shocking shade of orange I have ever seen, Value Village or no. Oh but then, but then, yellow and pink roses plastered haphazardly from root to tip. Psychedelic maternity polyester wahoooo! I would have bought it, actually, but it was sadly a size Twiggy so not for this mama.

4. I have not in the last 20 years seen anyone wearing a jumpsuit. (although an anonymous bystander claims to have seen one lately in the downtown core) Why, then, does Value Village have an entire SECTION dedicated to jumpsuits? (right between Maternity and Scrubs) Shouldn’t they be in the “costume” or “retro” or “loungewear” sections? Jumpsuits should not have their own section, else the hipsters will happen upon it and next thing you know: JUMPSUIT PLAGUE ON COMMERCIAL DRIVE! I almost almost almost tried on a black, velvet, short-sleeved, wide-legged jumpsuit because it looked stretchy enough to swaddle me but then I thought better of it.

5. And again in the jumpsuits: long-sleeved, denim, size “3” (ie: the width of my thigh), with a zipper to the crotch and flight patches all over it. $10.99.

Sadly, none of my positive prospects were just so when I put them on, yes, even the pink, corduroy jumper with the green elastic waist-ties (hey, I thought it might work, in a WHO THE HELL CARES! sort of way) so I moved on to the SPCA thrift store down the way (12th street and 6th ave, for Mizzle-ites and thrift hounds) and bought a short, brown velvet dress-thing that I might wear as a dress or perhaps as a shirt. It is very comfortable, cost $5 and is defiantly non-embellished.

The saleslady patted my (I am actually starting to think it might be a hernia? SA thinks it’s my pancreas trying to get out) belly button, asked when I was due, told me I was huge, then apologized, then assured me that children are a blessing. All in all, a successful hour out of the house.