my dirty little secret

I have so many fun stories to tell about the good times this weekend, what with the Craft Fair and all, and yet the only thing I can think of? Is how I am mildly enjoying stretch pants. WAIT!! HEAR ME OUT!!

I have a black pair of stretch pants/leggings that I bought to go under a dress and I wore them on Sunday to the craft fair because it was cold in the morning. They were the perfect layer. So perfect, in fact, that when I got home I changed into an old baggy t-shirt and kept the stretch pants. It was just like 1990 all over again. Only... more comfortable, if that's even possible!

So anyways, I slept in them and then got up this morning for work (from home) and decided 'eh' to getting dressed, because hello! stretch pants?! Every time I catch a glimpse of myself I shriek and chastise myself. What are you thinking? What if someone sees? The curtains blow open and the landscapers see you prancing around in stretch pants? And then I get away from the mirror and forget all about the way that I appear to the world while enjoying my second skin of light cotton and spandex. I feel like a dancer. Like I should be stretching and bending or leaping. Instead of lounging with a laptop on my knees, on the couch, waiting for Flickr to upload all my pictures.

Fortunately, I already know how to manage my compulsions and I will be avoiding Target all week so that I don't accidentally pick up another $5 pair of stretch pants. Unfortunately, however, I already own this pair and there are still miles and miles of sitting on couches to be had in this here spandex. Lookout winter nights, it's going to be all about the snug but not constricting, flexible, and like wearing nothing-at-all pants. (For the rest of you, call before stopping by or gouge your eyes out in advance)