R’s out ghost hunting — seriously, I don’t make this stuff up — tonight. So I’ve settled in to catch up on blogs, play a couple dozen games of Bejeweled Blitz and watch some equally mindless TV.
I’ve landed on What Not to Wear, mainly because if I let myself watch one more HGTV show this winter, I’m going to give in and do the glass back splash despite knowing it’s a trend that’ll soon pass.
The show itself is troubling. Some of these women do look scary. And yes, I question anyone who wears pj pants to work or the grocery. But then they’ll be tossing someone’s favorite sweats and I’ll be like, hey… that’s just not… nice.
I’m quite certain I wore sweats nearly every day of my sophomore year of college. I was lazy, occasionally hung over, confused, broke, trying to come out, and a bit too pudgy to attempt designer jeans. They were white and had the word Kentucky running down the left leg in big, Ky blue block letters. I’m sure on some level I thought they helped me disappear. Undoubtedly, especially from behind, they did nothing of the kind.
Post college I wore a pair of navy sweats until they had holes. Then I layered them over leggings. Coming home and slipping them on after working in a corporate environment that required full-on business attire was the best part of that period of my life.
Then I started dating the jock. Her sweats became my sweats — except she really sweated in hers so that was a bit icky on some level.
Sometime during this phase I discovered Adidas and Nike, and became a bit of label snob when it came to my own preferred lounging attire.
For the past several years I’ve been on a yoga pant kick. I even took a yoga class or two, just to earn the right to wear the pants. I’m now fairly certain they’re the perfect item of clothing, especially in black.
There’s just something freeing about the perfect pair of sweats. What not to wear. Or not.
