I should have requested a revision on the language for Mission 34 because there is absolutely no way to feel sexy when you are this pregnant, which I discovered the hard way.
My first attempt was to buy a sleek undergarment that would suck all my jiggly bits in, allowing me to properly wear the blue fitted maternity dress I bought for the Katie show. I bypassed Destination Maternity and went for a normal girl’s XL at Target. However, when I got home and tried it on, all my jiggly bits were transformed into grub worm rolls. And, it may have been the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever squeezed into, especially since it rubbed on the skin tags that have sprouted seemingly everywhere on my body this time around. Translation: not sexy.
Back to the Target return desk and a walk through the intimates and maternity sections. After the discomfort of “too small”, I went for “too big” in the way of flowy white cotton nightgowns. The ones I purchased shortly before Lee 1 was born now look as if a werewolf took to them in a rage – one doesn’t even button because the holes have stretched too much (but they’re soooo good for nursing). There was a jersey vneck that reached to my knees on sale for $5, which I happily brought home thinking I had nailed the mission. I’m actually wearing it now, and while it’s far more comfortable than the grub dress, it hardly translates to sexy, and is a bit of a stretch as a mission completion.
But then, fate decided to grant me a most appropriate purchase to make. This year has been awesome in terms of unexpected expenses. First, the transmission went out on Mr. Lee’s truck the day after we paid it off. Then, his ex-wife showed her crazy after the Duchess and I were on TV (because that had EVERYTHING to do with her, of course), which required payment of unexpected legal fees. And this week, as Dallas approached the 90s and one million percent humidity, our air conditioner finally died. And let me tell you, there is nothing that makes you feel less sexy than being hot, clammy and tubby. Nothing.
So, I casually shelled out a cool $6,000, and was able to purchase the most amazing internal and external system that will allow me to: sleep, get dressed, fix my hair, put on makeup, cuddle my children and husband, and maybe, just maybe, have sex with my husband. Let me tell you, any woman who managed ANY of these tasks before having the guaranteed comfort of a 70-degree home and dry skin has my respect. For my money, there’s nothing that makes you feel purdy like being cool.