Pants!

I'm about 5' 8.5". When I tell people that, they always look at me and say, "Oh, that's not that tall," and then I give them this short lecture:

About ten years ago, the National Center for Health Statistics conducted a survey, finding that the average height for an adult woman between the ages of 20 and 29 was 5' 3.8". (I looked up the survey info just for this blog post. Feel special.) This makes me about 5 inches taller than the average woman, which, if you think about it, is almost half a foot. Therefore, I am that tall.

(Incidentally, the survey found the average height for an adult man of the same age group to be 5' 9.2", which makes wearing high heeled shoes on dates highly awkward and impractical for me. It's unfortunate because, as a friend in high school who went on to become third runner-up for Miss Hawaii once told me, I actually have really nice legs.)

These are the facts that I must face when I go shopping for pants. The problems don't stop there, though. I've often surmised when shopping in stores, that designers must think women who are tall have 50% more leg fat than the rest of the population. I can't tell you how often I've tried on a pair of 12 Long pants in the dressing room, only to find that while they fit perfectly around the waist, there is enough room in the butt and thigh to fit another one of me!

My solution came two years ago when I went into the Old Navy on State and Washington in Chicago. Not wanting to waste my time looking for something that wasn't there, I walked straight up to the tallest employee I could find and said, "My kingdom for a pair of Long pants that fit!" She didn't miss a beat.

"Here's what you do," she said. "We don't consistently carry our products in Long, but besides length, there's no difference in how our Long pants and Average pants fit. Shop around the store and find some pants that you like, try them on to find your best size and style, and then go to oldnavy.com and order them with the right inseam."

I could have hugged her. I did what she suggested, and when I got online, discovered that in addition to carrying Long inseams, they have a Tall section, where you can get longer shirts, skirts and dresses as well! (Just a heads up, there's a huge difference between "Long" and "Tall." If you order the Tall inseam, order a size up.) Ever since then, when I want a new pair of pants, I just go online! I find something that looks cute, order it, and it fits perfectly! And that's how the story ends, or so I thought...

College makes you gain weight. No question about that. So before my first trimester of pregnancy was over, I needed new jeans, desperately. I made due for several months just wearing lounge pants (also from Old Navy) and skirts most of the time, but I really needed a new pair of jeans. I looked everywhere, but not only were Long maternity pants lacking, so were the maternity sections themselves. I stopped looking for it when I went into a store. I'd just find an employee and ask if they had one.

I did find an excellent maternity section at Kohl's, and made out like a bandit thanks to my Aunt Marie, who had Kohl's Bucks and various coupons she wasn't going to use but, still no Long pants. Finally, it dawned on me. I hadn't checked Old Navy.

Old Navy has an entire maternity section online. The clothes run a bit too big, but knowing that has made shopping for new clothes a piece of cake. I just order a size down. I now have two pair of Long maternity jeans, not to mention some adorable shirts and a pair of comfy burmudas. I've also discovered the Roll-Over Jersey Skirts, which have no elastic and are nice and stretchy to accomodate the ever-growing me.

So in summary, Old Navy rocks!

Happy (late) Easter!!!

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to update. I spent the entire weekend doing Easter festivities. I colored eggs, as you can see below. Mr Duckie with his bunny slippers is proudly displaying my two favorites. I call them “boy” and “girl.”


In addition to coloring Easter eggs, I took a day trip to Michigan to have Easter dinner with my grandparents and parents. My (ever wonderful and understanding) boyfriend drove me all the way and back, despite the fact that I was crabby and not that pleasant to deal with at 7 a.m. I don’t know why, but I woke up yesterday morning feeling very uncomfortable in the abdominal area. Feelings ranged from gurgles to sharp pains. These feelings magically disappeared soon after having a bowl of my mom’s amazing pasta salad… funny how that works. It’s a great recipe, and I would totally recommend it to anyone and everyone. Without any attention to measurements, which you can just decide for yourself, throw together:

1. Some sort of pasta, cooked al dente. Mom used bowties yesterday but Grandma usually uses rotini. Just don’t use any tubular pastas like macaroni or penne because it will get watery and gross once it’s in with everything else.
2. Cucumber, peeled, sliced and diced
3. Peppers. Red, green and/or yellow. It’s up to you
4. Carrots sliced thin
5. Radishes, also sliced thin
6. Cherry tomatoes. You can also use Roma’s but the picky eaters in the family find cherry tomatoes easier to pick out
7. Black olives, drained
8. Sharp cheddar cheese. Grandma usually uses shredded cheese, but Mom and I prefer to use small chunks.
9. Italian salad dressing. This is another one you can decide for yourself. Grandma uses creamy Italian while Mom prefers plain ol’ Italian. Personally, I think it’s great both ways. Be sure not to use too much. It should be enough to coat everything, but not enough to pool at the bottom of the bowl.
10. You can add just about any other vegetable you like to it. Grandma likes to use broccoli, but discovered many people (including Grandpa) picking it out. I’ve also seen it with celery (meh).

So yeah, that’s the magic recipe. As with all things, use responsibly. Moving on…

Mengyao made a wonderful impression on the extended family, which is amazing because ever since the news of our little development, we’ve had to defend him extensively when around my dad's parents. (It’s funny how they keep on coming to the conclusion that I had nothing to do with it…) It would be good to note that my parents have always liked him and don’t lay any blame on him to speak of. It obviously takes two.

In other developments, my middle section, which seems to be ballooning quite nicely. I am beginning to wear stretchy clothing only, which is fine because it gives me an excuse to wear a skirt every day. Also, I should let you all know that I’m having trouble with the scanner at the school’s computer lab and have not yet been able to upload the pictures onto my computer. Will do ASAP.

Well, I’ve got to take off because, unfortunately, homework doesn’t stop for pregnancy. I’ll try to write more tomorrow for the sake of those before promised updates.

B-Buckles and Zebra Stripes

The solution has come! For the first time in almost a month I am able to wear my jeans all day and not feel like I've stuffed myself into a denim tube. Introducing (drum roll)... THE B-BUCKLE!


Tada!

A few posts ago I mentioned not being able to wear my jeans without looking like I'm wearing a fanny pack. Well here it is folks, the one and only b-buckle, made especially for pregnant women who no longer fit into their jeans. It attaches to your belt loops, and you can adjust it to fit your growing tummy! It's wide enough so that it covers up the unbuttoned button and the unzipped zipper.

"Wow, this seems like an awesome product," you say. "I'm going to go buy five of them!" Don't buy five of them. You really only need one. Also, this is no miracle worker. No matter what the pictures may say, this product will not automatically give you a good tan and a pregnant-hour-glass figure. But it WILL allow you to wear your pants well into your second trimester.

In other news...

I scar terribly. I have scars all over my back from when I had terrible acne in middle school, and stretch marks from when my skin couldn't keep up with the rest of me getting taller. So I imagine that this experience is going to leave its "mark." (Laugh please. You're all I have to entertain.) I read about a product called Bio-Oil, which is marketed specifically to pregnant women as an oil that will reduce the appearance of stretch marks. I bought a small bottle of it at Walgreen's, but it hasn't really been working. That's mostly because I haven't been using it. It leaves my skin feeling slick and clogged, the way one's face might feel after having worn too much makeup all day. And it's supposed to be used twice daily for the full effects. Testimonials be hanged, if it doesn't feel good on my skin, there ain't no way I'm using it.

This brings me to the grand decision of the week, which will change the way I look at myself in the mirror, and probably how I will view others in my life.

I do not have stretch marks. I have zebra stripes!

Gestational Diabetes: is it worth the torture to know?

I finally went in to the clinic to get my 3 hour glucose test. This test is supposed to tell me whether or not I have gestational diabetes. To be frank, I'm not a very medically minded person (which may or may not be why I'm dating a med student). I'll most likely be corrected by before-mentioned boyfriend later on, but from the research I have done, the most severe side effects of gestational diabetes is a corpulent baby. Now, I'm going to recount for you the adventure I had today, and will conclude with a decision on whether or not it was worth knowing.

We'll begin with what I learned today.
1. Don't read interesting books while in a taxi
2. Cardigans make you feel less frumpy when you're wearing sweatpants
3. I can reach the clinic by taking the Brown Line to the Red Line
4. Someone sitting on the floor of a train car is not noteworthy to regular commuters
5. In the end, friends are the ones who save lives
6. That being said, have one come and get you from the clinic when you go in for 3 hour glucose test, and have them bring an apple.

I got up at 8 a.m. again, which has been happening with amazing frequency. I was supposed to be fasting, so I skipped breakfast (which was difficult because our living room and kitchen are just one room... the food was staring at me). I dressed comfortably for my day, but did decide to wear my cardigan with daisy buttons, just to make my life a bit more sunny. The taxi I called for arrived promptly at 9. So far so good. I gave him the address on West Howard Street in Evanston and off we went. I picked up the book I'd brought and apparently was quite engrossed because it wasn't until we were pulling onto Ohio Street that I realized I was Downtown. ??? He was taking me to Hubbard Street. (If you think about it, the only difference between a "w" and a "b" is that your mouth closes.)

So I had him take me to the nearest subway station and that's when the real adventure began. I called the clinic and had them tell me what the closest train stop was near them, and then took the Blue Line to the Brown Line to the Red Line all the way to Howard. I arrived at the clinic at 11:15, almost two hours after my original plan. Luckily I was just going back to the lab and didn't need an appointment, just a ballpark arrival time. They ushered me in quickly and I waited for my turn in the windowless room of torture. (At this point, it had been exactly 12 hours since I'd eaten.)

Finally in, it was explained to me what exactly would happen. "We're going to draw your blood now, and then have you drink this (holding up a bottle of orange flavored syrup), and then draw your blood every hour for three hours." So... that is what happened. They pumped sugar into my empty stomach and took my blood every hour for three hours. (I now have a bruise on my arm where they drew blood four different times.) Not much happened while I was at the clinic. I actually walked out the door thinking to myself, "well that wasn't so bad," even though it was already 2:30. Upon reflection, that judgement came a bit too soon.

It started with a dull throbbing in my arm where they'd drawn blood. I'd gotten myself back to the train station with no problem, and seemed to be fine on the Red Line train, albeit tired. It wasn't until I got off the train for my transfer that I started feeling ill, and suddenly, I was counting the steps to the nearest bench. I started sweating profusely, which must have looked absurd because the platform was quite breezy. I found myself thanking God for the mere mercy of the wind.

When the train came, I had to wedge myself into a crowded car and stand. After the fourth episode of falling backwards onto people, I found a wall to stand against. I probably could have used the "I'm pregnant, could I have your seat" thing, but was afraid the words coming out of my mouth would exhaust me too much to actually get into the seat. A very few minutes later, I sat on the floor. Just about when i could actually feel the sweat running down my back, I got cold. So there I was, a shivering, sweaty mass nearly passed out and huddled on the floor of an overstuffed train car. At that point, I called the college campus main desk.

I got lucky. I knew the person working, and was able to explain exactly what had happened. They knew someone on the school security staff and had them pick me up (thank you, Josh). The wonderful security man (didn't catch his name, but a thanks goes out to him, too) took me to my apartment and made sure I got through the gate. I walked through the door and grabbed the only thing I could think of that took no preparation: an apple. Let me tell you right now, that was the most amazing apple I have ever eaten. I almost ate the core. From there I moved on to a banana, a bagel, and (when I was sure I could do so without personal injury) I baked some chicken nuggets.

Now, nine hours after the experience, I am able to look back at my day with some smiles, some wisdom, and the knowledge that I've conquered the Tetris game on my phone (three hours in a waiting room had to get me somewhere!). But with all that knowledge, even with the amazing revelation of how wonderful an apple can be, is it truly worth it to know whether or not I have gestational diabetes?

I think no.

Better now, but why does the world smell funny?

I realized today that most of you out there probably think I am still in a comatose state. Not the case. On the 9th (day after I last posted) I went antiquing with my dad. That was good, got me out of the house, and we got to spend some quality time together, which we don't usually get that much of. I also spent a day with my mom shopping, got to have dinner with various cousins, and went to a family pizza potluck on Saturday night. Time well spent, I believe. Lots of free food.

I didn't want to come back to school when spring break was over. REALLY didn't want to come back. But I did. I have to finish this semester, or I'll feel like I've lost something. On Sunday my parents and I packed up my freshly done laundry and toted it all the way back to Chicago. They were good enough to help me unpack, which was awesome because if Mom hadn't been there to motivate me, I doubt it would be done yet.

That night after they left, I felt the baby move for the first time. This marks a drastic change in thinking for me. They tell me it's kind of early for me to be feeling that sort of thing, (I'm somewhere around week 13) but nothing in the world could have felt like what I felt the other night. It was kind of like, when you have one balloon inside another, and the one on the inside bounces against the side. It also could be likened to how a coke can might feel being filled with carbonation... So now when I think of my uterus, I imagine a coke can. But anyway, I felt it. It moved. It made itself known to me. I'm starting to get excited for this. I'm starting to feel this less as an intrusion on my life. I mean, it's a little person! It's a healthy change of thought that I am glad has finally come. It's a lot easier to deal with pregnancy now that I'm a little happier about it.

A few other changes are happening. I have to use the bathroom a lot. This change has happened, literally, overnight. Sunday, I felt normal. Monday, I used the bathroom at least every two hours and it's been that way since. So that's been... inconvenient. (Yay for kegels!) Another drastic change is one that has surprised me to no end. Both yesterday and today, when my alarm went off at 8 a.m., I got up. This isn't usual for normal me, let alone pregnant and usually sick me! And it's not a, hit the snooze, hit the snooze again, drag myself out of bed, consider lying down again and stumble into the bathroom kind of wake up, either. It's a genuine, "There's the alarm, I'm up!" feeling.

The third change is my middle, which has been gradually looking more and more like a fanny pack when I wear pants that button. Wearing jeans for long periods of time has become really uncomfortable, in fact the only pair I've worn in the past three weeks are what I consider my "fat jeans." I've finally ordered new lounge pants. I am now sporting fleece, velour and jersey in fashion worthy colors. As far as an actual bump, it's barely there, but there just the same. I've not noticed a difference in weight, but yesterday I took a soaking bath and definitely noticed a difference in water displacement.

The last change I am hoping is temporary. At first I thought it was something I was wearing, maybe some article of clothing or something I got on my hands. But after fifth person didn't smell anything, I concluded it must be me. All around me I can smell goldfish food. No joke! I've heard of this before, women smelling things during pregnancy. My roommate used the term "olfactory hallucination." It's most disturbing... and of all the smells to smell! I mean I could understand the smell of salt, musk, or perhaps even capers, but goldfish food? So that's confusing. If anyone could shed some light on that, it would be appreciated.

In the meantime, college is definitely back in full swing. Now I need to do some writing that will actually get graded. Ta ta!