I had to retire some clothes today. Good-bye, size ten pants! See you in the spring (I hope). My husband offers me no empathy. He just grins as I wail about how nothing fits anymore. It’s not that I’ve gained any weight. It’s that all my poundage has migrated to my waistline.

Back during my sophomore year in college, I had to endure a daily visual assault of my English prof’s bulging stomach and ample hindquarters stretching her knit pants to capacity. By the time spring break rolled around, I’d sworn off any garments involving elastic waistbands and drawstrings. Ever. So it’s a bit embarrassing to confess clothes with these once-shunned characteristics are looking pretty good right about now. At Chip’s insistence, I plan to shop for some this evening. He’s been on me about smooshing his baby.