On Dressing Preggernant Wimmins

One of the upsides of pregnancy is that you have license to go shopping for new clothing. By definition, your usual gear won't stretch to last you the whole nine months. That said, maternity togs get worn for, at best, nine months. (Not that I needed to bust into maternity clothes at the moment of conception. At eight weeks along, I supplemented my regular clothing with two pairs of pants with roomier waists, and it was not until after the Christmas holiday, as I inched into my second trimester, that I really broke out the maternity clothing on a daily basis.) Maybe twice or three times that if you plan on having multiple pregnancies.

Although I've gained and lost weight since hitting my adult height, I've stayed about the same size since I graduated college in 1998. There have been times when I've stretched the limits of my clothing, and times when my slacks were virtually falling down off my hips, but for the most part, I'm a tried and true size eight. Depending on how much I've yo-yo'ed up or down, I will fill everything out differently, but nothing over the last ten years has warranted either my retreating to size six clothing across the board or necessitated swelling into size tens. That's not to say that I don't have the odd size-six or ten article of clothing peppering my wardrobe; it's just that I'm basically wearing one size more often than not.

Because I haven't shifted sizes, I have a lot of clothing that has lingered in my closet for five years or longer. There are items from college that I still break out. Most wear out over time, but some things I've yet to part with, either because they're comfortable or because my finely-honed sense of nostalgia trumps practicality.

When you have a closet (or more than one) stuffed to the gills with options, it's hard to justify a shopping spree. I allow myself purchases to replace things that are hopelessly out of date, or things that have gotten worn to death, but I don't get a new wardrobe each season. I can't afford to.

Over the winter holidays, I was showered with several gift certificates for maternity gear at all of the usual suspects: Target; Gap; and Destination Maternity. I used them up, trying to get understated, classic pieces that would last the entire pregnancy, look as dignified as possible, and lend themselves to being reworn more often than I tend to re-wear my non-maternity clothing without calling attention to the fact that I was making the most out of a few articles of clothing.

I still didn't have enough.

I lucked out, however. Before I hit the midway point in my pregnancy, an old friend and a relative came to my aid with hand me downs. A grade school pal who lives not too far away and who had a son a year ago February offered me her castoffs to borrow, and my cousin's wife gifted me her maternity leftovers (claiming that she was done having children and that if my cousin wants any more, he'll have to carry them himself). More recently, a new neighbor posted on the local parents' listserv that she had a lot of maternity clothing in my size free to the first person to respond to her post.

It's awesome to be on the receiving end of such generosity. And, as with being the beneficiary of so many given-up subway seats during my lengthy daily commute (my back thanks each and every one of you nameless faces), I've decided that, once I'm no longer pregnant, I'll happily return the favor(s) to anyone in need.

Getting a wardrobe of hand-me-downs is terrific. Sure, there are some things I'd not be caught dead in and a few I'd never have chosen for myself, and only wear because, well, they fit. But for the most part, I have been showered with all sorts of neat new bits of apparel that didn't cost me one red cent. I get -- well, if not to reinvent myself, to dress up in all sorts of things (some of which are exceedingly comfortable and some of which actually look pretty darn cute on) I would never have spent the extra money on. In fact, in any given day since getting knocked up, it's more likely than not that at least something I wear is secondhand.

The clothing looks none the worse for the wear. In fact, it's a point of pride for me: I can't resist a good bargain. So when folks ask, I often tout the generosity of the women who hooked me up. And I know they've done well by me: just a week or two ago, my colleague made the unsolicited observation that I was "rocking the maternity wear." How cool is that?

If only there were a more practical way to do the same with non-maternity clothing. I know that in my batch of clothes dating back to the late 90s, I've got plenty of things that someone else would simply kill to wear. And I've cast a covetous eye towards friends' and neighbors' wardrobes, jonesing like mad for pieces of clothing that they are probably sick of wearing. I'll have to work on making that happen.