I really don't want to buy maternity clothes.



I shouldn't say that so definitively, because now that I have this idea in my head that I can withstand, I know my stubborn-self will stay true to that desire until my belly button is screaming in pain.



There is hardly a shirt in my wardrobe that clings to my stomach. I have--and will--always be a flowy top kind of girl. I HATE the feeling of fabric clinging to my skin, of stiff jeans squeezing at my hips. I'd rather wear a loose dress and sandals or shorts and a breezy top any day of the week.



Thankfully, that means I have a closet full of baby doll tops, of swingy dresses and skirts, leggings and billowy tunics. So this means I don't have to waste money on clothes that accomplish the exact same thing and that I can only wear for a few months, right? I can save that money and instead splurge on some Christian Louboutin's and mouthwateringly cute baby band onesies?



I was really deadset on the idea until I got dressed for work yesterday.



I'm sitting here now dressed for brunch with my parents for their birthdays (happy 60th, dad! and 29th, mom!), wearing a maxi dress that I had pre-baby apocolaypse, and it hides my burgeoning bump and jiggly love handles quite well, thank you.



A few weeks ago I spent a little too much money at Urban Outfitters, investing in shirts like this in five colors, because it's exactly the kind of thing I've always worn and I'm pretty sure it will accommodate a belly full of twelve kids if I wanted.

I also bought the stretchiest, could turn any group of friends no matter how diverse in size into The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants skinny jeans, and I'm also pretty confident they'll fit later on, albeit with the top button undone.



But yesterday, I woke up to go to work with absolutely no desire to put on clothes (it was 2 in the morning), and grabbed my standard I-don't-feel-like-getting-dressed outfit: wide-legged black pants made out of sweatpants-material complete with an elasto-waist, and a plain white T-shirt.



It only took about 10 minutes of sitting at my desk before I realized that these pants, these once oh-so-comfy, can-fit-a-Thanksgiving-meal-waistline pants, were DIGGING into my navel. It took everything in me to not leave work early. They were THAT uncomfortable.



Now I'm wondering just how long I can make it sans-maternity wear. If I can't trust my trusty sweatpants, who can I trust?

Sarah Caitlin blogs on Nine Months to Life.  Read more about Sarah's pregnancy journey:

• The Pakistani Disease


• The "Good" Pregnant Woman


• Will I Work After Having a Baby?  Will I NOT?!


• Bump Watch


• What Happens When I Try to Cook


• How I Quit Smoking After I Found Out I'm Pregnant


• 15 and Pregnant


• In Which I Find Out I'm Pregnant and Fall Down in Shock