YOGA PANTS SEASON!
Today was the first day I was able to pull out my beloved wardrobe staple, and pulling on their comfy stretchiness, thought to myself, "These pants are incredible!!!"*
I know, I know, I mention these pants almost as much as I mention my kids, but it is usually in a derisive manner, when I am complaining about my life. Yes, I made a pact last year to stop wearing athletic clothes when not exercising or preparing to, and, for the most part, I stuck to it. But there are days when nothing but the ol' YP's will do. I realized today, these pants are life-altering, and instead of despising them, I should be thanking them. So...
Dear Yoga Pants,
How can I ever thank you for your years of kind service? Although you have been much maligned in my blog, as a symbol of my low position on the totem pole of my own priorities, I realize now you have gotten me, and continue to get me, through some tough times.
For example, before I found you, what did I ever wear during my postpartum days? How did I ever clothe my slack belly and wider caboose in those first foggy months after childbirth? I wore...overalls. Let's allow that to sink in. Like a five foot, nine inch-tall toddler, I wore overalls. I'm still sort of in denial about it. Shame on you, Old Navy for selling them, and shame on me for dressing like Kiki Dee. But even hers were nicer.
Even though I have been wearing you less and less, I still have those days when I barely have time to rinse the sweat off my body, never mind throw an outfit together, before dragging the brood out the door. It is then you allow me to give off an air of brisk athleticism, not disheveled desperation, as I run around town. And let's be honest, there is no other pair of pants I want the first Monday after the holiday season. Wearing you, I look like a woman ready to kick some ass at yoga or Pilates** this new year, not a woman who can't face the result of her holiday excesses and struggle into pants with a button.
Yes, you are spending more and more time in the closet, but know you are loved. You are the pinch hitter of my wardrobe, always there when things get rough - should it be lack of time, or my inability to stop eating peanut butter. And without you, I fear I might really hit rock bottom.
Two words: Pajama Jeans.
Love you,
MM
*I am continuing my one woman campaign to end the ubiquitous usage of "amazing". It is second only to "awesome" in its meaninglessness.
**Two activities these pants are appropriate for, neither of which, I have any interest in.
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