Hello there beautiful.
Every once in awhile I like to time travel. I paw through old journals, unearth Google Documents or peek through old newsletters. There was this one story that had me pausing.
I kept thinking about it for the next few days after. I remember exactly how I was feeling when I wrote it all down. It's a story that makes me feel so, so good and I wanted to share it with you. Again. Because sometimes you have to hear a story a few times for it to really sink in...
Awhile ago I was at my favorite thrift store and I came across the most lovely and soft linen pants. Perfect condition. I eagerly squirreled away into the dressing room and was thrilled with how they fit. I took a look at the tag and almost passed completely on them.
There on the little tag were the words "J.Jill".
Yup. These babies were full blown high waisted "mom pants". Or at least that's what I thought when I saw the label. I stood there and wrestled with the idea of what "mom pants" really meant to me. Who would I be if I actually bought these things? Had I become THAT person? At 32? It all felt very unsexy and slightly depressing.
I slid the pants on again, because they did have an elastic waist band after all. I looked at myself from all angles. They looked good, like really good and I kinda loved them. Classic without being dowdy.
My resolve to not buy them waivered. What the heck are "mom pants" anyway? Aren't they really just pants that are tailored for women who have had a kid or two and know that our bellies need just a toosh more support and some breathing room in the legs? Is that really so bad? Do we need to villanize ourselves for that?
I'm happy to report they are now one of my favorite pairs to wear.
That whole experience let me to another store more recently that I would have never considered shopping in until then.
I immedially fell in love with all the colors and textures I was seeing. The pants were fitting here too. So were the tops. It was almost as if they were made just for me. My body. A womans body. These clothes had me glowing from the inside out. This never happens anywhere else.
It was there in that store that I promised myself I would no longer be seduced by the cheap cotton/poly blends that called to me from the "Exhilaration" section of Target, which to be honest, had recently been leaving me with a feeling of anything BUT exhilarated by the time I left the dressing room.
I no longer need to suffer through fruitless trips to trendy stores who market to a slightly younger crowd and whose idea of what a size 10 (or 12 or 14 or 16 etc) should fit like is drastically different than mine.
So I guess what it all boils down to is this: If you want to feel like a radiant women, do yourself a favor and get your ass out of the juniors department.
There is nothing wrong with having a woman's body because we ARE women. I'm so ready to start celebrating that aren't you? We don't need to look like we're in high school anymore. We don't need to iron out our wrinkles and we totally don't need to wear clothes that threaten to cut off our circulation because someone said low-rise is where it's at.