Sweatpants Purgatory

I love me some sweatpants. Never before have I had such strong feelings for an article of clothing. It started when I was pregnant and nothing fit or looked decent anymore, so I figured, 'whatevs I'm just gonna wear sweats. My big pregnant ass is going to embrace the frumpiness that society allows a woman who's expecting.' And I did. My mom bought me a new pair for Christmas, and I never looked back.

To think of the days BB (Before Baby) when I would come home and wear my work clothes until it was time to go to bed and put on pajamas, seems like ages ago! BB, I had one, maybe two pairs of sweats, and I rarely had a reason to wear them. NEVER would I be seen in public with them. Now, it's the first thing I do after walking through my front door. I'm like that dog on the Beggin' Strips commercial, where he's frantically sniffing around the house looking for bacon. That's me looking for a clean pair of sweats. I get just as excited when I find them too. IT'S SWEATPANTS!! I make up little songs about them...

Sweatpants, sweatpants,

when I put you on

I do a happy dance...

Sing it to the tune of the Spiderman theme song. I no longer go out in public wearing them, but I did for a while right after Baby because my normal clothes still weren't an option and I was so sick of yoga pants. I may never wear yoga pants again. Or eat apples. I ate at least five apples a day when I was pregnant. Now looking at one almost makes me gag. I told Travis that after I lost all my baby weight I was going to buy a new wardrobe. He asked what would happen if I never lost the weight, which made me feel awesome. But of course I informed him that I would still have to buy a new wardrobe because none of my clothes would fit. Alas, the baby weight has been gone for a few months, but when I go to buy new clothes, all I want to buy is sweatpants. I see the skinny jeans and tight sweaters, but oh, my sweet sweet sweatpants, how I long to be in your leg holes. I try to avoid the magnetic pull, but the force is strong. I must say, if you are in the market for a good pair of sweats, go to Aeropostale. There's a chance you'll have to push some middle schoolers out of the way, but you won't be sorry once you pull on that soft cloud of heaven.

You may be feeling sorry for Travis right about now, but I'm telling you, don't. He has taken my affection for sweatpants as a green light to live in basketball shorts and whatever ragedy undershirt his work clothes hid during the day. We are hot. After work it's a quick rush of dinnerbathpajamasbottlebedtime, and then we get some alone adult time, which for us means sitting on the couch like two turds in the grass, watching whatever the DVR has in store for us tonight. Someday we may escape Sweatpants Purgatory, but for now, we're embracing it.

If only they made this in my size...