My spouse does not understand why I have dozens of slacks, in varying sizes in my closet. His pants wardrobe is simple, sweatpants, jeans and dress slacks.
I have the same categories of pants, but finding myself advancing in girth requires adding sub-category wardrobe staples.
For instance, I have drub sweats that I tool around the house in. They are my favorite. Next, I have sweats I wear to the gym that are a step up from the drub sweats, but not nice enough to run errands in. Last, the really nice sweats I save for hosting casual dinners at home or running errands.
Age appropriate jeans are difficult to locate for mature women.
Skinny jeans tend to emphasize jaybird legs whose calves walked away during the Nixon administration. Jaybird legs combined with the engorged python body type scream “old lady”. Why advertise you are nanoseconds away from the multi-residency home?
I believed I hit jean nirvana when I discovered a site that sold high-waisted Mom jeans. Note to self: never order online after adult beverage. The jeans arrived with torn knee, slim legs and definitely not appropriate for those whose waist decided to merge with their abdomen.
I have two pairs of jeans – one for “see how hot I am”. These can only be worn the day after I have consumed celery and water all day. The other pair, my “oops” jeans need no explanation.
Generously sized women aka “curvy, chubby”, or the more politically correct term “thick”, have to take added measures when wearing slacks.
I could not bring myself to ditch my dressy, black crepe slacks, with pockets hiding under the pleats. Where else would I hide stuff I don’t want to cart around in a handbag.
I caved and purchased a pair of dressy slacks, with no pockets and no zipper. Wearing these to a special event requires at least three days notice of eliminating salt, bread, meat and ice cream from my diet. Before launching myself into said slacks, I must first take a boiling hot bath to discourage fat cells from making an appearance until they have recovered from second-degree burns.
I decided enough and took measures to simplify my life. My wardrobe now consists of all sweatpants. It did require a lot of courage to wear the sweats to a funeral but I believe the decedent would have defended me from the strange looks I received. I rewarded myself with my bravery by stopping at the store on the way home and loading up on Cheetos.
Life is good.