Today I declared war against my 8 (or is it 9?) pairs of yoga pants. These are my demands: 1. They are not allowed to leave the house unless I am going somewhere to exercise.  2. They must be removed promptly after exercising. (And no- “I’m going to exercise at some point today…” business.) 3. They are not allowed to be worn every day. If I wore yoga pants yesterday, guess what guys, no yoga pants today. No exceptions.  4. They are the sworn enemy. No, I do not care how comfy they are. 5. Their friends- dirty hair, frumpy t-shirt, chipped nail polish, and no makeup are not welcome either. I’m a pregnant housewife in a tiny house- there is absolutely no excuse to let these friends hang out with my yoga pants on my body. They can go hang out at someone else’s house who has multiple children and/or jobs/school.  I always dreamed of being one of those super-cute pregnant chicks that always made me so jealous… and now I’m finally the pregnant one and have I been super-cute? No. I’ve been super-lazy. The scary part is: if I let myself get this lazy with my appearance while pregnant, how much lazier am I going to get when I have a child to take care of? I might as well just buy a mu-mu and call it a day, right? My poor husband…  I had a little wake up call this morning because yesterday I went shopping downtown wearing yoga pants (not even my nice Lululemons, but my cheap, faded Old Navy ones), a tank top that I usually only wear as an undershirt, Uggs, a frump-a-licious sweater that should not be allowed out of the house, my dirty hair thrown into a stubby ponytail and no makeup. When I caught my reflection while standing in Nordstroms, I was embarrassed. Not only for myself, but for my sister-in-law who had to walk around all day with a preggyfrump. She was polite and said my appearance was acceptable because I was pregnant, but we both agreed that without the bump it would be (highly) unacceptable. So here’s Day 1.         Tank: Old Navy        Cardi: Anthropologie        Jeans: my faves- Lucky (love that I can still wear them! Not buttoned obviously…)        Shoes: Rainbows        Necklace: made by me *Also, I’ve asked my SIL to strictly enforce my war demands with hefty consequences: no sweets on days that I’m a frump. (Because let’s be honest here, sweets are the only thing that motivates me) 

Today I declared war against my 8 (or is it 9?) pairs of yoga pants.


These are my demands:

1. They are not allowed to leave the house unless I am going somewhere to exercise. 

2. They must be removed promptly after exercising. (And no- “I’m going to exercise at some point today…” business.)

3. They are not allowed to be worn every day. If I wore yoga pants yesterday, guess what guys, no yoga pants today. No exceptions. 

4. They are the sworn enemy. No, I do not care how comfy they are.

5. Their friends- dirty hair, frumpy t-shirt, chipped nail polish, and no makeup are not welcome either. I’m a pregnant housewife in a tiny house- there is absolutely no excuse to let these friends hang out with my yoga pants on my body. They can go hang out at someone else’s house who has multiple children and/or jobs/school. 

I always dreamed of being one of those super-cute pregnant chicks that always made me so jealous… and now I’m finally the pregnant one and have I been super-cute? No. I’ve been super-lazy. The scary part is: if I let myself get this lazy with my appearance while pregnant, how much lazier am I going to get when I have a child to take care of? I might as well just buy a mu-mu and call it a day, right? My poor husband… 

I had a little wake up call this morning because yesterday I went shopping downtown wearing yoga pants (not even my nice Lululemons, but my cheap, faded Old Navy ones), a tank top that I usually only wear as an undershirt, Uggs, a frump-a-licious sweater that should not be allowed out of the house, my dirty hair thrown into a stubby ponytail and no makeup. When I caught my reflection while standing in Nordstroms, I was embarrassed. Not only for myself, but for my sister-in-law who had to walk around all day with a preggyfrump. She was polite and said my appearance was acceptable because I was pregnant, but we both agreed that without the bump it would be (highly) unacceptable.

So here’s Day 1. 

       Tank: Old Navy

       Cardi: Anthropologie

       Jeans: my faves- Lucky (love that I can still wear them! Not buttoned obviously…)

       Shoes: Rainbows

       Necklace: made by me

*Also, I’ve asked my SIL to strictly enforce my war demands with hefty consequences: no sweets on days that I’m a frump. (Because let’s be honest here, sweets are the only thing that motivates me) 

Tags: pregnant third trimester frump fashion no more yoga pants