When I get my bod back

I've never cared much about clothes, but these past three months when I've been reduced to two pair of clown pants and one pair of sneakers have changed me.

I want to wear beautiful clothes. Loose, flowy things. Tight, skimpy things. Sophisticated things. Strappy shoes.

Of course, I remember why I wore plain boring clothes before -- they fit, and, generally speaking, they were cheap. Unfortunately, that can't be said for most clothes I find attractive. But I honestly think I'm going to be willing to try a little harder and pay a little more than I was before. I've already wasted my butt's best years in blue jeans (at least they were snug blue jeans, it could have been worse.)

These days, nobody is looking at my butt -- they're all staring at my humongous belly. And they're smiling. I get more friendly smiles from strangers on the street -- and mostly men, at that -- than ever before. I have a public figure. The kind of figure no one is ashamed to be caught gawking at. Isn't that interesting? It's kind of fun. These days, in this country, strangers don't just smile at one another on the street, but strangers smile at me. Eric saw a guy do it the other night, and we were both amused. He said, "I don't suppose you'll get so many smiles when you've got a crying baby with you in public."

Yeah. I just might need that new wardrobe. But mainly I'm just going to want to look in my closet in the morning and see clothes that I feel good in, that I enjoy wearing. I know I will want that in the future, because it's what I want now.

Edited because I didn't finish
So, for my birthday, in mid-October, I'm going shopping. I should be a normal-lady size by then.