Little Black Pants

So, this is when you know you have "let yourself go."

I had purchased some great clothing from a yard sale (one of my many addictions). I hit the jackpot when I found a pile of pretty cool clothing all in my size. A buck a piece! You can't go wrong with that.

So, one of these items I hesitated on, but ended up throwing on top of the pile to take home. A pair of pants. Kind of on the wild side, but just a bit. I would have snatched them up without a thought a few years ago.

They're black. They're stretchy. They have some glittery purple paint looking stuff spread across the front. And they're tight. Not crazy tight. But definitely not my normal shapeless, baggy, momma pants.

So, I finally gave them a try one weekend. It's the weekend, right? I'm still in my twenties, for goodness sakes. I can wear slightly tight black pants. Not a crime.

And they fit! A miracle. And felt pretty darn good, too. Clothing that fits. Go figure.

But I needed a second opinion to be safe before I unleashed my new self on the world.

So, I walk into the room where my husband, Jamie, is playing with Jude. And I do a little twirl and ask if they look okay.

And what does he do? He looks at me and LAUGHS. He actually laughs!!

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing. They're great. They're fine." But more muffled laughter.

"WHAT???"

"Nothing. Really."

I'm sorry, but if you are going to look at my butt and LAUGH, you are not going to get away with not telling me WHY you're LAUGHING at my ass!!

"WHAT??!!!??"

"Nothing. I just...You just look sexy, that's all. I guess I'm not used to you dressing like that anymore."

So, there you go. It is now to the point that when I look good, it's comical. Good to know.