Pepita

Mom Pattern Baldness

I’ve always had fine, thin hair. This being the case, I’ve generally kept my hair short. When I was pregnant, though, my hair started growing in thicker and fuller. I was very excited. I had big plans for this new hair—plans that might have included barrettes. My hairdresser and I started working on a short, shaggy bob when I was about 6 months pregnant. I bought brushes and combs, and I took the hairdryer Ted bought last winter to shrinkwrap the windows out of the toolbox and up to the bathroom. I was styling.

Then I had the baby. I started noticing that there always seemed to be loose hair falling into my face. There were fistfuls of the stuff in the drain after I took a shower. And, when I used the blowdryer, it was like a hair hurricane had hit the bathroom.

I went back to my hairdresser and informed her that I seemed to be losing my hair. Utterly nonplussed, she said, “Yeah, you’re probably losing it here”—she lifted the hair over my ears to reveal a disturbingly bald patch—“and here”—she brushed back my bangs to reveal the M-shaped hairline generally found on male heads. I actually yelped with alarm, and I can only hope that the salon susurration of blowdryers and small-town gossip drowned out the expletives that flew from my mouth.

After completely freaking me out, my hairdresser reassured me that post-pregnancy hair-loss is not uncommon, and that her own bald patches were starting to fill back in. The fact that her daughter is 3-years-old made this a little less comforting than it might have been, but it was nice to have some cause for hope.

Confronted with the current situation, though, we decided that it would be best for me to forget my dreams of a modest bob and go back to short—and not shaggy short, but shorty short.

I’m consoling myself with the knowledge that I really do look better with short hair—it suits my face, and possibly my personality—and the fact that Frances’s hair is growing. Soon, I’ll be able to put little barrettes in her hair—the first of what will no doubt turn out to be many attempts to live vicariously through my child.

Too Mom

So, I was browsing the sweaters at TJ Maxx when I discovered a brown wool number that looked kind of promising. I pulled it from the rack and saw that it had a half-placket—I had thought it was a cardigan, possibly belted—and that it was from Eddie Bauer. I shuddered a bit while thinking, “Ugh. Too mom.”

As I put it back, it occurred to me that, hey, I’m a mom.

I am aware, of course, that I have a child—the only reason I was in TJ Maxx in the first place was to return some sleepers that Frances outgrew before she ever wore them. I often refer to myself as “mommy” when I’m talking to Frances, and doctors and nurses have been calling me “mom” pretty much since I got pregnant. This was, however, the first time I realized that I am now part of the mom demographic.

I’ve had a couple of days to get over the jolt to my sense of self, and I am at peace with my new persona.

I still don’t want to dress like a mom, though.

What to Wear When You’re Grunting, Pushing, and Possibly Shitting Yourself

I am a shallow, superficial person who cares way too much about appearances—my own and those of others. I believe that looking good is a necessary precondition of feeling good. I like to shop, and I often pay too much for things I totally don’t need. I am almost certainly over-invested—financially and emotionally—in my daughter’s wardrobe, and I expect that this situation will only get worse once she’s actually born. And, yes, I have some cute vintage bed jackets to wear in the hospital, when I’m basking in the early moments of maternal bliss and doing my best to look good for the camera.

Even I, however, find the Binsi product line excessive. Binsi makes skirts and tops to be worn during labor. I’m no fan of the standard hospital gown, but I’m really not sure why the PrimaMama is $55 better than a stretchy skirt I already own that I don’t mind getting all icky, and I don’t understand why the $43 Thankini is preferable to an old t-shirt or tank top. I worked in marketing long enough to know that if there’s room for a new product—not a need, mind you, just an empty space—someone will make it, but, damn: How desperate a consumer does one need to be to shell out a hundred bucks (I’m including shipping) on a special outfit to wear while pushing a baby out through your vagina, a process that includes not just a whole lot of really unflattering grunting and straining, but (almost inevitably) shitting yourself? I’ve seen the videos: No outfit in the world is sassy enough to make you look cute while giving birth.

Non-Maternity Clothes

Maybe it’s all the knocked-up celebrities. Maybe it’s the continued fattening of non-pregnant Americans. Whatever the reason, fashion seems to be having a maternity moment.

Everywhere I look, I see shirring, gathers, empire waists, and voluminous tunics. At least half the clothes I have bought since getting pregnant are from the non-maternity racks. Knit skirts with big, roll-down waistbands from Urban Outfitters; roomy t-shirts with banded waists from the juniors department at Target; sweet shrugs from a variety of places: These are items that fit now and that I’ll still want to wear after the baby is born.

Old Navy in particular is filled with belly-friendly separates. I mean, look at this shirt: It’s cute, it’s comfy, and I can hardly imagine a woman who isn’t pregnant wanting to wear it.

Maternity clothes are expensive. Unless you’re pregnant all the time, they have a limited life. And, if you don’t happen to live in a hip urban area, you pretty much have to shop online to find anything fashionable. My advice for anyone pregnant right now is to take a good look around the regular racks before shelling out for a bunch of pregnancy wear.

The Double Plus Nursing Bra by Bravado! Designs and the Horror of Aesthetic Discomfort

The Double Plus Nursing Bra by Bravado! Designs is about as flattering as the average sports bra—which is to say, not flattering at all. It rises above all but the highest necklines, and it has thick seams that are quite visible beneath knit fabrics. It is, in short, just perfect for women who really don’t care how they look.

I am, it turns out, not one of those women.

I know what some of you are thinking: “But it looks so comfortable.” Well, allow me to begin with this observation: We all know what comfortable means; it means ugly. It is the apparel equivalent of saying that a girl has a great personality. Consider the Birkenstock. Consider the stretch pant. I will also add that, when one has been wearing underwires since, oh, the eighth grade, the kind of support offered by bras such as the Double Plus is actually kind of unnerving, in that it does not feel like support at all—indeed, I would say that, although this bra is ostensibly designed to accommodate breasts that range from DD to G, the fabric of which it is composed is not up to the challenge. I have only had mine for a few weeks, and it’s already getting a little stretched-out.

But I would like to set aside engineering-related issues for a moment and return to the matter of how totally not hot my breasts look when imprisoned within the confining yet amorphous embrace of the Double Plus. I have discovered that there is such a thing as aesthetic discomfort. This should not be understood as something separate from physical discomfort, as it has its own physical manifestation. Rather, I will contrast it with what I would like to call mechanical discomfort. Mechanical discomfort is a bra strap digging into one’s shoulder. Aesthetic discomfort is a hyperawareness—actually felt, not just cognitively perceived—of one’s breasts caused by the knowledge that one’s once-proud rack has been mashed into a hideous parody of its former self. Mechanical discomfort makes me cranky. Aesthetic discomfort, it turns out, can actually make me cry.

I have really grown to hate the Double Plus, but I have refrained from burning it because my current bra wardrobe is so limited. In my previous life, I was a 34 F or G, and finding bras was kind of a nightmare. Since outgrowing my pre-pregnancy bras, finding support garments has devolved into a kind of existential crisis. I am fairly certain that I have tried on every nursing bra manufactured in Europe and North America that goes to G, and I have returned most of them. So, what I am left with is a small wardrobe of brassieres, each of which is uncomfortable in its own special way. I mix it up: Some days, I go with the underwires that dig into my armpits (the Medela “Full Fit” seamless underwire nursing bra), other days I choose the loose band (the Anita Maternity microfiber underwire nursing bra, which would be perfect except that it doesn’t go up to G and I had to buy a 38 in the F to get cups that were big enough), and—on days when I know I’m not leaving the house—I endure the dread Double Plus.

ADDENDUM: Upon rereading this post, it occurs to me that women who enjoy the Double Plus might be offended by my review. First, let me say that the combination of contemplating the Double Plus and not taking antidepressants put me in a particularly crotchety mood. Secondly, I would like to point out that I’m not saying that the Double Plus is suitable only for women who don’t care how they look; I’m just saying that it is, in my opinion, ideally suited to that demographic. Finally—and most importantly—I’m not even suggesting that not caring how one looks is bad; I am well aware that I would be a more tranquil person indeed if I was a little less invested in my appearance, especially now that my ankles appear to be swelling apace with my ass.

Liz Lange for Target Cropped Jacket

I just got this jacket at Target*. It is super cute, and pretty cheap, as these things go. I am not generally impressed with the quality of Target’s clothes, but this jacket is really nicely cut and well-constructed, form-fitting without being constricting.

* At the moment, I am boycotting Target because of their stupid policy on filling—or, more to the point, not filling—prescriptions for emergency contraceptives. However, my mom bought me some maternity shirts from Target that were too big, so I exchanged them for this jacket.  

Maternity Marketing

So, I just got an e-mail message from Bellablu Maternity. I like this store. They have some cute stuff. But I’m also thinking that they’ve got a copywriter with her priorities just a little out of whack. Check this out:

Picking out the perfect outfit for your upcoming shower is one of the most important decisions you will make this 9 months. Should you wear a dress or a skirt? Should I cover my arms or go strapless? How big will my belly be come party time?

It is your special day and you want to look perfect.

While being pregnant has not diminished my desire to look good, I do believe that there are many, many choices I make every day—not having gin and tonic for breakfast, to cite one example—and will be making in the near future—e.g., epidural or au naturel—that are slightly more significant than my choice of baby-shower outfit.