A friend of mine recently recommended the blog Postpartum Rambling to me. I love the hilarious accounts written by Postpartum Diva about being a new mom, and I wanted to share them with you.
Here is a post from Postpartum Rambling written on January 3, 2009, reprinted with permission. You can visit http://postpartumdiva.blogspot.com for more of Postpartum Diva's amusing posts.
"Glam I Am...NOT!"
"Finding the perfect dress for a cocktail party used to be like finding the perfect mate. You have certain criterias, a picture in your mind, then you go out and shop. Given your past successes and failures, you narrow down your choices, and you go to the stores where you are most likely to find the dress you have in mind. You try on a few at your first stop, then you go to another store, just to comparison shop or to rationalize your choice. If you fall in love with the way you look in the mirror, you justify the price, fantasize the new you, and plan the rest of the assemble. It is magical and glamorous.
"I recently had to go shopping for a cocktail dress and I am here to report that postpartum shopping excursion with 2 screaming kids is anything but glamorous. It's actually more like running the Amazing Race, while carrying two small people, and dodging grenades from all sides. After feeding, changing, cleaning, packing and bribing the kids, we headed out to the Neiman Marcus Outlet. I knew I had at best about 40 mins before someone was going to need to feed or go to potty. I had no idea what size, color, or style would flatter me. Since I was size 4/6 before pregnancy, I decided that size 8 would be my best bet. I grabbed everything from hot halter dress to grandma's Sunday church dress. When I physically couldn't hold any more dresses, I rushed to the dressing room with son flying behind me. I was determined to meet my glamorous dress.
"The dressing room was empty, so I parked my stroller in the handicap room, and started the 'amazing race'. I tried on my first batch of 12 dresses. I began with a few Laundry dresses, BCBGs, and Nicole Millers - these are 'safe bets'. My safe bets quickly turned into disappointments as I struggled to squeeze into those tiny dresses. I would walk out to show the dressing room girl and she would say hesitantly, 'well...I don't think that's your best look.' My toddler began to get restless, and my 6 month old daughter began to whimper. I had no time to ponder or re-try on dresses. I raced through my next batch of 12 dresses. The person in the mirror (moi) looked so terrible, I felt embarrassed to even step outside of my dressing room. My son began to mumble 'too small, too small' like an autistic child. Some of the dresses hugged my chest so tightly, my boobs started to leak! (don't worry, I was still wearing my nursing bra). This is when I decided to nurse my baby hoping to fit into some of those dresses. Since when did they make size 8 feel like size 6? I put the baby back in the car seat and tried on my next batch of dresses hoping that somehow nursing would simply shrink me to a perfect 8. Desperate to find at least one flattering dress, I even tried on some couture dresses. I grabbed a beautiful navy blue Armani dress, and tried to squeeze into its 'size 8'. When I finally managed to zip it up, I was horrified to see how a $2100 dress made me look so waist-less and un-glamorous.
"Feeling completely depleted, I tried to unzip and unwind from this unpleasant dress. Problem was, Armani hugged me so tight, I couldn't unzip it enough to get the dress off. I squirmed this way and that to no success. My son started to rock the baby's car seat and she started to wail. After several desperate squirming and breathing exercises, I decided my only option was to pull up the dress...over my head. Somehow I managed to pull it up (actually more like 'roll it up') the dress over my chest. I tried to quickly pull the dress over my shoulder, and...it wouldn't move at all. There I was, my shoulder and head stuck under a beautiful Armani dress unable to move an inch. Sweat drops started forming on my nose. I could feel my own breath heating up my head inside the dress. 'You ok mama?' asked my two year old.
"My daughter's cry grew louder and louder. I couldn't even pick up the baby because my arms were stuck, pointing straight up to the ceiling. I had two options - I can do the incredible hulk and just break free of the dress by force, or I can ask the dressing room girl to help me. Luckily, the girl walked by and asked if everything was ok. I was so humiliated. She finally managed to peel me off the dress. She looked at the mountain of 'no' dresses, and said 'maybe you should try on a different size'.
"By this point, shopping was anything but fun. After trying out 48 dresses in a mad rush, and feeling slightly light headed, I managed to find a decent dress... IN SIZE TEN!! Nothing against size 10, but it's just not me, or wasn't me. I sheepishly thanked the dressing room girl. And get this. The dressing room girl, who looked at best a size ZERO and 18 yrs old, turns to me and says 'Don't worry. I had a hard time finding my size after I had my baby as well.'
"OUCH!! Glam I am definitely NOT!"