Oh today is a happy day! After weeks of fruitless, pointless and often twisted, self-abusive attempts, I have finally managed to get back into my pre-pregnancy jeans! Yes indeed! The fact that I grazed my hips and thighs in the process is neither here nor there and I'm sure that the welts on my skin will fade in time.
The trouble is there just seems to be a lot more arse to squeeze into a space that at one time was comfortably accommodating. Sadly, it appears that I have developed a back flange (picture a muffin top, but to the rear). Excellent! I have a fat back!
Needless to say, I took my jeans straight back off again, as it would appear that moving and breathing (let alone eating) are fairly fundamental to human existence. So I'm back in my combat trousers for the time being. However, whenever I wear these badboys, rather than cutting an edgy, directional figure, I look more as though I'm going hiking, but not very far at that. More in the direction of the local women's 'friendly hour' group. (Yep, we do have one of those where I live. I've read about it in the parish magazine).
And so, I wonder what you have to do to become the sort of woman who owns a capsule wardrobe? I'm a sucker for those prefatory paragraphs in catalogues, where you're encouraged to discover 'statement' or 'must-have' pieces and 'wardrobe staples,' that will take you from day to night and anywhere else you fancy, if you believe the claims. (I'm sure this is the reason why I have two, unused baby slings cluttering up my household. They had me at the merest mention of hemp, let alone the promise of organic nurturing).
So perhaps I'd better give myself a few more weeks before I give the jeans an outing, otherwise I'm in danger of walking as though I've shit myself. At the very least, I'd be sporting a very conspicuous camel-toe and I'd more than likely be giving myself a dose of thrush!