I suppose, if I had to, I could stuff myself in the biggest pair of my usual blue jeans. They have stretch. They have a low waistband. But. Since my belly is uncomfortable when I lean too hard onto the edge of the sink, and the low part of my belly is what is filling up, I think I may have graduated into my fat pants. I saved two pairs thanks to sisterly foresight. Almost put them in the recycling bag for wayward clothes a few months after the great kateshrinkage of early 2009. But instead, I put them up in my closet with the oh-I-was-so-optimistic stash of cheapo on sale maternity gear (a pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, a sweater...maybe other things I do not recall since I never opened the bags that came after the miscarriage, not even to process returns).
So today I am happily in fat pants. I can breathe. I relish the room. I relish the lack of squeeze around my middle.
As I am virtually assless, (not a state I am proud of or would have chosen), I may now be spending all of my time hiking my pants up.
But I am ok with that.
With luck, sometime about a year hence, I will look at those jeans tucked up into my closet and wonder if I'll ever fit in them again. But right now they are staying right where they are- piled in plain sight.
8 weeks today.
(please please please please please).