I love yoga pants. They are the perfect pants. They fit no matter what; they always make my butt look good; and I can wear them all day long. YES—all day long, thereby saving tons of time in switching pants.
“Um, Alica,” hubby says, looking over my shoulder at what I just wrote, “it only takes a few seconds to switch pants.”
“Have you watched me get dressed???”
“Yes, but my brain short circuits when I see you naked.”
Awe, isn’t he awesome and such a little liar.
“It takes forever to pick a pair of pants,” I explain, maybe still blushing. “First I have to decide if I am going to wear one of the three pairs of pants I know fit.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Oh, how little my hubby knows. “By choosing one of the pants that fit I am admitting defeat. I am admitting that I still haven’t lost weight, I am saying yep this week is a bust, I shall look this way forever, I am doomed to wearing only one of three pairs of pants because my love for cheese is greater than my desire for fit thighs.”
My husband groans and buries his face in is hands. “Well, why not just pick one of the other tens pairs of pants in the closet?”
“If only it could be that simple. First I have to check them all. Can I even remember which pair fit last time I tried them on? Then once I choose, I have to try them on. If they fit, then everything is fine. But if they don’t fit, depression sinks in. I have just proven to myself that I am fat and even though losing weight has been a goal for the past six years, all I’ve actually done is gain weight. Then in shame, I hang the too-tight pants up and put on a pair I know will fit and spend the rest of the day mentally berating myself for being such a failure.”
“But,” my hubby wails, “they are just pants.”
“No they are little cocoons of ego-destroying cotton. Which is why YOGA PANTS are awesome. They fit, they always fit, and I don’t have to change all day long. After my shower I put on a pair of forgiving, loving yoga pants. I can then curl up on the couch, chair, bed, or floor without any problems.”
“Yoga pants enable me to do my Writers Butt exercises through the day without evil, pinching waistbands cutting into my delicate belly. IF I don’t spill anything on myself I can sleep in them, so no drama with too tight sleep pants.”
I think Hubby whimpered at this point.
“And when I wake up in the morning I am ready to work out, if I so choose. Nothing can stop me in yoga pants.”
“What if you have to go somewhere nice?” Hubby asks.
“Then I put on a nice shirt, one that falls below my butt.”
“What it it’s really fancy?”
“Then I get fabric glue some toddlers and sequins and let them have fun.” Did he really believe I didn’t have all the answers? “Or I could buy some yoga pants from Herban Devi.”
“So you need more yoga pants,” Hubby says.
“Yes, but in different styles and colors. I don’t want people to think I wear the same pair of pants all the time.
Hubby walked off muttering under his breath. Poor man, maybe I should get him some yoga pants?