I Hate Pants
I woke up this morning with the urge to write this post so what I had planned for today will be up tomorrow. Now “hate” is a strong word. And I know that pants, especially given the fact that it’s sleeting outside in CT right now, are necessary at times. But I have to say, pants are my least favorite article of clothing. Pants have the power (or I give them the power) to completely change my mood. Pants give me a number that my mind can grasp upon and use to beat me up. Pants are a form of measurement, and when the measuring consists of noticing that you absolutely don’t need a belt with pants you used to need one with, it’s really enough to make you want to throw the pants in a heap and live in yoga pants.
Maxis are nice too.
Bikinis get a bad rap as being the dreaded article of clothing for those with body image issues. But I beg to differ. At least when I wear a bikini, I can put something on over it to cover it up and feel fine. Bikinis have stretchy waists that are sometimes even adjustable. Though I’ve been experiencing anxiety about wearing a bathing suit in Florida at the end of this month, it isn’t comparable to the anxiety I feel each morning I wake up and have to put on a pair of jeans that have just been washed.
