Maggie loved the secondhand store. The bargains were just unbelievable – once you washed out the smell of chemical disinfectant, of course (which rarely took more than one cycle in the washing machine). She couldn’t understand why so many people refused to shop there.
As usual, the pants were all thrown onto a table in a big pile, completely unsorted by size or style. She and Kirsten dug through looking for items which looked like they might fit.
Twelve minutes later, Maggie stepped out of the dressing room, a grin spread across her face. “They’re perfect!” she cried, doing an awkward twirl to show off the back of the khaki-colored shorts.
“Do they fit well? They look a little, well…” Kirsten grasped for an inoffensive way to describe them.
“They’re the most comfortable shorts I’ve ever worn!” insisted Maggie, pulling up her shirt a bit to show off the waistline. “I mean, they’re a little big on me, but they’ve got this drawstring in the front to hold them up, and it’s not like anyone will see that under my shirt. And check this out!” She spun back around and lifted up her shirt in the back, revealing an elastic waistline, which she stretched out a few times to show off. “The drawstring is only in the front, so when I want to take them off, I don’t even have to untie it!”
Kirsten gave up on tact and simply blurted it out: “Maggie, I’m pretty sure those are maternity shorts. They’re elastic to, um… accommodate an expanding waistline?”
Maggie looked them over in the mirror for a moment, carefully considering. “I think you’re right. That would make sense.” She found Kirsten’s reflection and shot her another grin. “I think we should stop at that maternity store on the way home!”