Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Shape Shifting - or "Oh s**t my trousers are falling down."

Since 2009, I have ballooned from a Size 6 and about 7st 3 (stressful job), to about 12st when I had Lily, 8st 7 after, 11st when I had the boys, 8st 7 after, and about 11st when I had Evie, you've guessed it, 8st 7 after. Which I know is hardly HUGE, but for me it's just not... well... me.  In the last few weeks I've finally shed that annoying half stone, so feel a bit better.

The problem?  I have clothes in my wardrobe that range from a 6 to a 10.  Some of the 6s have been stretched to an 8.  Some of the 8s to a 10, as I've upped and downed through the lbs.

So, once in a while - and probably more often than I'd care to admit - I have a wardrobe malfunction. Shape shifting is a b*tch...

Today I took Lily to a parent/teacher consultation and then to her ballet lesson, so thought I'd shed my usual trackies and trainers.  I shoved on a pair of comfy black trousers (elasticated, clingy things, possibly meant for sport) with my new flat boots (no heels for me, I'm barely keeping up as it is!).

As with most hastily-shoved on wardrobe choices, the full impact of my trouser/boot combo on this rainy day didn't quite hit me until it was too late.  Walking across the school playground, my ankle began to get wet.  The reason?  My trousers had slipped over the flat boots and the bottom edge had sucked up the contents of several puddles.

With my lower legs uncomfortably damp, and trousers flapping and slapping against them, I then returned to the car and drove Lily to ballet.

The problem now?  The lower half of my trouser legs were significantly heavier than the upper part... Result?  Trousers falling down - not in a revealing way, thank goodness, but enough to require constant hitching, and to ensure that the ends dangled in several other puddles as we crossed the tarmac in front of the Sports Hall.

The final humiliation came when I realised after ballet, I had brought Lily's "falling down" jogging bottoms and forgotten her knickers (not realising she'd not worn any under her leotard).

So, in the pouring rain, my daughter and I ran towards the car, both holding on to our trousers for dear life.  The only saving grace?  I, at least, had a pair of knickers on underneath...

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