Walking along one of the (many) strip malls in town today, I passed a women's clothing store and felt compelled to look in the window.
The models looked comfortable and well put-together, albeit a bit preppy. I yearned for their crisp and functional look that refused to sacrifice comfort for the sake of style.
It was then that I noticed that all of the models were sporting baby bumps.
This isn't the first time as of late that I've caught myself accidentally eyeing maternity clothes... While walking 4th through Kitsilano the other week, Gloria and I determined that maternity clothes are starting to get too cool for their own good, especially the brightly-coloured jersey wrap tops and dresses they're charging an arm and a leg for in the Kits shops.
So comfy! And so stretchy! So convenient to cover my inevitable "back to school" beer belly! ... I digress.
But seriously, why is it that pregnant women are getting the good stuff? I want in on the colourful and stretchy goodness that will hide my belly, too.
Maternity clothes in non-maternity sizes: it should be the Next Big Thing. Because, while I really want stretchy waisted pants, I refuse to procreate to get them.
It was a typical evening drive in Saanich when the old mix CD turned to its next track: Shakira's "Underneath Your Clothes".
"Yes!" I exclaimed, thrusting my fist in the air and getting ready to ballad about endless stories and territories.
It was then that I realized that not everyone shares my love of old Shakira. I looked sheepishly to my friend Dee, who thankfully looked as enthusiastic as me.
"Wait!" she exclaims. "Before we go all out..." she closes the car windows.
"You mean we can sing out loud to circa 2000 Britney Spears without shame, but not Shakira?" I asked incredulously.
"Don't look at me like that," sighed Dee. "Shakira is amazing. But a window-closer."
As usual, Dee was right. I quickly remembered the time last week when I pulled up to a stoplight belting Alanis Morrisette at full tilt only to discover that the car next to me also had its window open. Dammit, why weren't they like the 99% of cars in town smart enough to roll up their windows and let the AC work its magic in this dry and dusty desert?
The problem with not posting as regularly as I'd like means that there are too many things to write about. It seems too long past to write in detail about my last few days at the TV internship (I think blog years is like dog years... so even a week suddenly becomes almost 2 months. Right?).
I celebrated the end of internship #3-- and the August long weekend-- by visiting Dee, one of my very best friends from high school, out on Vancouver Island. Gloria and Friso came along for the adventures as well, and we had a brilliant weekend of wandering the downtown, enjoying the patio weather, riverfloating and hiking and trail running and movie nighting and eating and visiting and all sorts of other good things. And I think we ended up stopping in every small town between Victoria and Nanaimo in the process. I even managed to interview an artist for my MRP at a farmhouse out in Duncan and was able to justify a bit of art gallery-ing in the name of "schoolwork". Happy sigh.
As I sat on the ferry deck on the way back to the mainland, I had no doubt in my mind that this time back home was exactly what I needed this summer. In the last four months I have moved thrice and tried my hand at three very different types of jobs in my field-- which has been both exciting and at times overwhelming-- but the chance to hang out with old friends and live in, rather than just visit, the place I call home has made all of the difference.