Filed under: Main Course
Picture this: me at the checkout getting craft supplies for a Girl Scout meeting
Older cashier who always remembers me: Baby? (Pointing army belly)
cashier: oh, I thought I saw a….(uncomfortable silence)
Me: grabs purchases and leaves store, leaving behind some of my pride.
But alas, that nice Cashier’s hadn’t fully deceived him. He had seen a baby. A food baby.
Yes I’ve been in denial that the black leggings and leggings were simply a fashion choice, nothing more. It’s not that my jeans were getting a little tight (I’m still blaming the Spanish dryer for that) or I just enjoy a baggy sweater now and then. Nope, I’m carrying a serious food baby. A food baby that will need to be birthed. After the holidays. After I’ve eaten Mac and cheese for three straight meals in three varieties. After.
So until then you can find me eating Mac and cheese for breakfast, wearing boots, black leggings, leg Warner’s and that cozy and forgiving sweater because after all the best fashions are both stylish and functional. And leave room for food babies.
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