Once upon a time, in a Midwestern state far, far away, there lived a 34-weeks-pregnant woman (let's call her Frema) who was scheduled to deliver her first child in the chilly month of December. Over the course of the last several months, Frema had purchased a gazillion dollars worth of maternity clothes to accommodate her rapidly expanding waistline, and despite temperatures being low enough that she had to scrape layers of frost from her car before heading to work, she hesitated buying an item whose estimated period of use would be limited to six weeks or fewer.
In an effort to save a few pennies, Frema rummaged through her closet and unearthed the charcoal pea coat she'd worn the last three winters. But, not surprisingly, the coat was too small.
Not one to give up, Frema reflected back on all "the books" that recommended raiding a spouse's wardrobe for make-do attire. But Frema bets most pregnant women of petite stature aren't married to men with six-foot-four-inch builds. His coat was too big.
Finally, because Frema's husband was more concerned with her causing an accident behind the wheel due to wearing all that excess material and/or possibly catching cold than avoiding another charge on their Visa, he suggested visiting Old Navy's maternity section and perusing winter wear more fitting--quite literally--for the gestating variety. "We know we want more children, so a coat would be a worthwhile investment for future pregnancies. Plus, you have three sisters you can one day share your loot with," he said. "It won't go to waste."
Who is Frema to argue with such wisdom?
So off to Old Navy they went, and lo and behold, the beautiful, light gray ensemble fit just right.
So delighted was Frema with the newest addition to her wardrobe that she asked her husband to take an updated belly shot, even though three hours of shopping left her looking and feeling like ass on toast. "After all, the Internet, it likes the belly shots," she said.
And everyone lived happily ever after.