Best Sister Ever

As many of you may have picked up on, I am not particularly fond of any maternity wear…ever made…EVER. Even with a fairly distinct belly blooming, the majority of the time I can get away with my baggy jeans and an up size on my shirts. The standard work wear has been black cargos with a button extender, then an open dress shirt. The alternative would be putting on some of the various prego wear. Unfortunately, I look fairly frumpy and just not 100% professional with an open dress shirt, so the hideous prego wear is the necessary evil for days where I’m not just staring at my computer and have to present, or go to meetings with outside partners.

When I suck it up and throw that crap on, I get told that I look fine, sometimes even nice. The fact is that I don’t even want to leave the house due to the level of self-consciousness and humiliation that I feel. Sure, I look fine. In fact, I’m sure if we took a survey of the general public, they would have an approval rating three times higher than that of our Commander and Chief. After all, for the first time in a long time I was wearing the clothes that society has been trying to force on me my whole life. I’m all about embracing the suck, but I might as well walk out of the house in a bikini because that is how comfortable I feel. I’m just not being true to me.

Insert my sister. Now, keep in mind that my sister and I have a typical sibling background. We have argued about stuff that only siblings can argue about, but no matter what we are still sisters. This Christmas, my sister reminded me again that she has been putting up with me for long enough that she gets it.

A couple days before Christmas she texted if I had opened up my present. Curious, I asked my wife about it because it seemed like they were in cahoots. I was given the nod and opened up the present that everyone knew about but me. Imagine my surprise when I busted out a handful of custom made shirts for me!

Apparently when my wife took measurements under the guise of her making me a Weasley sweater, which I begrudgingly sat through, was actually her getting measurements for this. Normal shirts!!!! Shirts that went over my prego belly without exposing a ridiculous amount of skin, or being so tight that I might as well not wear the shirt because you can see everything anyway. That was one of the best presents ever and it was all thanks to my sis seeing the complete awkwardness of me trying on those crap clothes. She figured that I might as well feel human while growing a human, and I’m exceedingly grateful.

To top off the awesomeness, they made sure that my daughter got a matching shirt. My daughter is already fairly clingy to me so this is practically a dream for her. I’m pretty certain it is because I’m always at work, but now it’s a whole new level of mini me. There is a new day of the week and it is called “matching shirt day.” Yeah, it comes pretty much every other day because…you know, the whole washing of the shirt thing.

My wife and I discovered the extent of this new phenomenon the other night when we were sitting in living room while our little one was in her room, tasked with changing into her PJ’s. “Mumum, do you know what day it is tomorrow?” My wife and I looked at eachother in confusion. “Tuesday?” I asked in quiet confirmation that we were thinking the same thing before answering “What day is it?” loud enough for our daughter to hear. “It’s matching shirt day!!!” Considering it was matching shirt day the day prior, I had to confirm that said matching shirts were in fact clean before agreeing to this. Apparently this little one knew full well that it was a laundry day and despite the fact that the shirt was still in the dryer, it was on her radar. Hopefully when this new little one comes, she can take on the matching shirt role with her sister 😁.