PhatChick

I hate pants.

Well, that's not true. There's something magical about a pair of perfectly broken in jeans, isn't there? Something otherworldly and wonderful.

I have some jeans. Somewhere. I cannot recall the last time I wore them. They probably fit, sorta. They're certainly not magical.

Here's the thing (I can't believe I'm alone in this, which is why I'm sharing): going shopping for jeans -- and indeed, ANY kind of pants -- is like a one way ticket to Ben and Jerry town. It's a free pass to self loathing.  I don't care how much I weigh or what I look like, pants are NOT my friends.

Scratch that. People who design pants are not my friends.

WHO ARE THEY MAKING THESE PANTS FOR? Who? Who are these mythical, hipless, assless people who are getting these pants? Where oh where can a girl with curves and a smaller waist buy pants that fit? Please note, I watch "What Not to Wear" and I have heard Clinton and Stacy extol the virtues of having clothes tailored a number of times. Which is great if you live in New York City but not so great if you live in Rural, USA with no tailor to be found. Without the benefit of a tailor, I have enough room in the waistband of my pants to host a party. They look ridiculous. They looked ridiculous when I was super thin (which is a story for another day), they were a struggle when I was 50 pounds heavier than I am now (though, ironically, that was when I owned pants that fit me better than any pants I have ever owned), and they are problematic now.

My ongoing solution to this issue has been: don't wear pants. I have a zillion skirts. I loves me a skirt.

HOWEVER.

I am moving from a warm, humid, "Dear Lord why is it so hot outside why do people LIVE here" climate to a MUCH cooler one. Where it snows. A LOT. As much as I love my skirts, I understand that I am going to need pants. Probably more than one pair.

I'm going shopping today. I'm trying to have a positive attitude about the pants. I'll let you know how it goes.