Notice the Corsican ferry in the background. How we dream to be on it.
When my sister Martha convinced me to buy these maternity shorts last December in Vermont, I said "I'll never wear those, are you crazy." She gave me a knowing look and said "yes you will, around the house, you just wait."
They are appromately 400 sizes too big for me. But desperate times call for desperate measures. This is the only time I have left the house in them - and it was just to get into the car and go to the beach. To document the moment, my husband (of one year exactly today) put them on at the beach. He loves them and prefers me to wear them low on my belly "beecooz dat way, you look like a rapper. Eeet ees cool like dat."
The glamour is gone, my friends, gone. One must make concessions to fashion when it's 98 degrees and you've got 3 weeks to go. You try carrying around 13 extra kilos. (in pounds, that's like, say 937 or something).
