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Before I had kids, I had a style. Not “style”—I’ve never been particularly stylish—but “a style,” a way I preferred to dress and to look. My clothes made me feel good, authentic. I didn’t look like everyone else and I was glad. I was super picky about what I wore, but I hated shopping, so while I didn’t have an extravagant wardrobe full of fancy labels or a zillion shoes and purses, I liked my look.
Then I got pregnant.
I didn’t want to (and couldn’t afford to) buy a maternity wardrobe. I bought a few things, but I found myself compromising on a lot. I wore things I never would’ve considered before and felt uncomfortable and out of sorts when I had to dress for anything other than comfort.
I gave in on colors I would normally never wear because Target only had that shirt in my size in that mint color and I needed a shirt. I gave in on style because Target only had that chevron-print top and I detest chevrons, but I needed something that fit. I gave in on everything from lace to ruffles (why do maternity clothes suck so much?!) so I didn’t have to spend a ton of cash on clothes I never thought I’d wear again.
The intersection of comfort and necessity is where my look died.
And, y’all, it’s been all downhill since.
When my oldest was an infant, when I was deep in the bowels of postpartum depression and after a long internal struggle, I bought my first pair of yoga pants. I only wore them at home and insisted on trying to fit into my old clothes when I had to go anywhere. But nothing fit the same.
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