The moment your jeans tap out (aka: welcome to second trimester)
I remember the exact moment my regular shorts betrayed me. I was leaning against a random brick wall outside a café, one hand on my head, pretending to be a relaxed, glowing pregnant person… while secretly trying to discreetly unbutton my shorts because the waistband felt like it was angry at me.
That in-between phase of pregnancy hits hard. Your bump is there, but your brain hasn’t caught up. Your old clothes technically go on your body, but by the time you’ve walked from the car to the gate, you’re already plotting how to peel them off the second you get home.
That’s the energy of second trimester: you’re standing in the sun in a grey tank, black shorts, sneakers on, looking kind of put-together in photos… and underneath, you’re negotiating with your waistband like it’s a hostage situation.
Why second trimester clothes feel so weird
No one warns you about this part. First trimester: you’re mostly bloated and hiding it under big shirts. Third trimester: it’s obvious, you give up and wear whatever covers you and doesn’t cut off circulation.
Second trimester is sneaky. You wake up one day and:
- Your denim shorts won’t zip, but maternity shorts feel too maternity.
- Your thighs are like, “Hi, we live here now,” rubbing together on every step.
- You sit down and everything folds, spills, or digs in weird places.
It’s not just about size. It’s about control. Your body is doing its own thing without asking, and the wrong clothes make that feel louder. I used to stand in front of my closet, half-dressed, and feel this wave of panic like, “If I can’t even figure out what to wear, how am I supposed to raise an actual human?” It sounds dramatic until you’re sweating in your bedroom at 8:30 a.m. with three pairs of discarded shorts on the floor.
The second-trimester uniform rule: you get one hero piece
Here’s what saved my sanity: I stopped trying to make every item in my closet work. I picked one thing that always felt good, and built outfits around that. For me, that hero piece became a pair of shorts that could survive a full day without making me want to scream.
This is where the Body Shapewear Shorts come in. They’re technically shapewear, but they act like that one friend who shows up in leggings to brunch and somehow still looks like they have their life together.
What I actually need from maternity shorts (no filters)
1. Support that doesn’t make me feel trapped
I wanted my belly to feel held, not vacuum-packed. The Body Shapewear Shorts were originally designed with high-waisted compression for after pregnancy, so the panel actually knows how to support without suffocating. Second trimester me loved that same support around the bump. It felt like someone gently cupping the underside of my stomach instead of a waistband trying to slice me in half.
2. No digging, rolling, or sneaky sausaging
These shorts are made to compress and shape, but in a way that lets you breathe, sit on the couch, walk to get iced coffee, then lie on your left side for two hours because apparently that’s your new hobby. They smooth things without that harsh line across the thighs that shows up in every photo and makes you want to untag yourself.
3. Something I can wear in public without changing twelve times
The best part? They don’t have to be hidden. They’re shapewear that is activewear, which means you can throw on a tank, sneakers, and go. Exactly like that image of the pregnant woman leaning against the wall in her grey tank and black shorts, looking off to the side like she’s contemplating life but really she’s thinking, “Did I switch the laundry?”
They’re $35, which is less than I’ve spent on random “maybe this will fit” panic purchases that I hated within ten minutes.
The pocket situation (because your hands are full)
If you’re the kind of person who always has your phone in your bra, your keys in your mouth, and a snack in your hand, the Body Shapewear Shorts - Pockets exist for you. Same idea as the original shorts, but with pockets. Actual ones. For real-life things. Like your phone, a crumpled ultrasound printout, or the lip balm you now physically cannot be more than two metres away from.
They’re also $35, and honestly, the pockets alone are worth that. Especially when you’re waddling into an appointment carrying your water bottle, Medicare card, and emotional baggage.
How I style them when nothing else feels right
- Café run: Grey or white tank, Body Shapewear Shorts, oversized button-up left open, sneakers. Sunglasses for the illusion of togetherness.
- Work from home: Huge T-shirt, shorts underneath. Zoom sees “put-together”, lower half is “I might nap after this call.”
- Evening walk when you’re over it: Throw on the Body Shapewear Shorts - Pockets, shove your phone and keys in, headphones on, pretend you’re in a slow-motion music video about a tired but determined mother-to-be.
Real talk: it’s not just about the shorts
The thing I didn’t want to admit: sometimes I used tight waistbands as a way to feel “in control” of my changing body. If my clothes fit, I was okay. If they didn’t, I spiraled. Standing there half-dressed, trying to yank up shorts that clearly weren’t coming, I felt stupid for crying over fabric… but I cried anyway. Alone, in my bedroom, with a pile of clothes on the floor that all used to fit.
Finding something that worked at every stage — bump, no bump, postpartum belly doing its own thing — didn’t fix all of that. But it turned down the volume. Clothes stopped being the crisis of the day. I could pull on my Body Shapewear Shorts, or the pocket version, and know: okay, at least this part is handled.
If you’re in that second-trimester limbo where everything feels too tight, too loose, or too much, you’re not being dramatic. Your body is different every week. You’re allowed to find one thing that makes it feel a little less like an argument and a little more like, “Fine, we’ll do this together.”
And if you’re standing in the driveway, leaning against a wall, one hand on your head, wondering if everyone can tell you’re holding your breath because your shorts hate you — they can’t. But also, you don’t have to keep wearing those shorts.