I recently wrote on my personal blog about my sweaty desperation when dressing for work. Particularly, that I would rather parade my naked ass around the newsroom than figure out what to pull over my rippling flesh.
Anything looks like a tent. And jeans? Please. I have yet to find the perfect maternity jean. I don’t know about you but this pregnancy my thighs have ballooned at an alarming rate. I used to think pregnant women waddled because their belly was big and their balance was off. I’m convinced it’s because they’re trying to avoid Chub Rub.
I cannot stand it when my thighs rub together. Certain maternity jeans promote this particular action. Others cut off my belly circulation. One afternoon it got so bad at work I escaped to my car with a pair of scissors stolen from human resources and cut a hole for my stomach in the maternity band of my jeans. Deed done, I sat there letting my belly breathe. Naked stomach pressing against the steering wheel, heaving desperate breaths and massaging the angry, red welt the band left on my belly.
But leggings, despite how comfortable, IF you can find a pair that fit all parts of your bulging body, signify giving up. Sure, they’re cute with some snazzy heels or boots and the right top but once you’ve morphed into a full-time leggings gal, you’re kind of like the younger version of the fat lady in sweats, right? You’re basically telling the world you’ve given up.
So I continued to squeeze into uncomfortable maternity jeans and mix it up with leggings that would often spontaneously decide to roll down my stomach and escape my body. I spent half my day cranking the leggings back up over my belly, hoping the top band would take hold in a fold of my muffin top.
Then I wrote the aforementioned blog about how miserable getting ready for work makes me. Not only is it physically difficult but no matter the ensemble I end up feeling like an orca in a tent and leggings. Some well-meaning blog reader left a comment mentioning these so-called jeggings. The word alarmed me. Seriously. Jeggings? Yuck.
And then I hit the maternity section at Old Navy. Did not even know they had a maternity section. Stumbled onto it by mistake when I was perusing their sales rack for XXXXXL sales. Which, get thee to Old Navy immediately! You know the sale rack? The one that has cute stuff for, like, $10.99 except it’s all usually the XXXXL stuff that never sold. Now it fits! Before I digress just go read about it here.
When I was lugging my sweater tents back to the fitting room to try on I stumbled into the maternity section. That’s when I saw that word. Jeggings. These “jeggings” I’d heard rumblings about. That word. Similar to those unfortunate celebrity name morphs like Bennifer and Brangelina.
But now, here they were before me at Old Navy. What the hell, I took a closer look. They look like jeans. But they feel like leggings. On a whim I grabbed a pair and cranked them on in the fitting room. And oh my God. It was meant to be!
A pregnant woman MUST have come up with this delicious combo. I mean, it is the perfect creation for a woman still trying to look somewhat presentable and hip while battling a wicked case of thigh chub rub. I was sold within seconds.
They are comfortable, flexible, yet have the tailored form of a jean instead of the stretchy blandness of leggings and still, they keep my thighs from French kissing every time I take a couple steps. The importance of that last bit cannot be underestimated.
Tim Gunn, of Project Runway fame, expressed
expert condescending concern last night on Conan, that jeggings have become such a pervasive trend on “all physiques.” Tim Gunn, you can suck it. My physique cries out for jeggings. My physique needs jeggings.
Carrie Bradshaw has her Manolo Blahniks and Monica Bielanko has her maternity jeggings.
But listen, I’ll give Tim this. Let’s not get wild, my pregnant pals, and wear, oh say, a crop top with our jeggings. Let’s keep it classy, ladies.