So your zen moment is pulling that elastic band to the under-boob position and snapping or tying things in place. I’m going to give you permission, here and now, to embrace your style. The only difference between this style and the one involving plyers and a firm mattress is that today you are wearing your clothes for comfort. No one has the right to use the words, “mom jeans.” No one.
There was a time when dressing in a specific manner was expected. Riding on an airplane, for example, required your finest attire. Can you imagine being forced to buy special clothing today to eat your bag of peanuts stare longingly at the circulation-less hand you had to cram in between the seats?
Thankfully, now we have options in the transportation world, as well as in everyday life.
Find yourself below:
I wear the jeans I wore in high school because acid wash reminds me of rebellion and the Mc DLT.
I wear the anti-mom jean, keeping the waist band low in order to give my stomach that gentle sloping it deserves on the inevitable trip to my knees.
I wear cheap jeans. The kind that may vary by six sizes, depending on which third- world country proudly sewed two (or three) legs together.
I wear my daughter’s jeans. Because you can’t.
I refuse to wear jeans because I don’t want to be in any of these categories. I wear middle-age pants. They are the same brand and style I have worn for twenty years. They have named that style after me and currently make these pants in basic black, soothing grey and terrific tangerine.
If you fit into one of these categories of some variation thereof, congratulations. You have reached pantopia. Now about that bra….
Oh yeah- -the waistline under the boobs- -I get it!
Love it!!
Pajama pants! There’s a reason why it’s become socially acceptable to wear them to the store. (It is, isn’t it?)