I visit an elderly Jewish lady once a week, and already she has shared a plethora of advice - some of it cute, some unfounded, but all spoken with care. This past Saturday I was preparing to leave her home when she called me to her. I expected a farewell hug, but instead I received a pants inspection. She lifted the end of my shirt, pulled my waistband from my tummy and announced I was "sqooishing" the baby. She wagged her finger as she berated me for wearing such tight clothing. I promised to take them off as soon as I got home, but she wasn't satisfied. She unbuttoned the top button and made me leave it that way as I left her home.
I'm in that in-between stage when I've outgrown my normal clothes but haven't grown enough for maternity clothes. If Miss Rachel has her way, I'll be wearing mumus and sweat pants every where I go.