Real Pants

Yesterday, I promised that I would wear pants, get a life, and be an adult. Today, I am beginning that mission.

A “Real Adult” would have a concrete plan for becoming one (does that sentence make sense?!?!?!), so I’m adding modifications to my daily routine.

I’m going to start simple: the sweatpants. I need to start getting dressed every day, even if I don’t have any particular reason to. And – wow – when I write it out loud like that, it sounds WAY lamer than I thought it was! Ugh. But in my defense, I am a bum-around-the-houser, which means that a well-spent Saturday is one where I get to be a hot grungy mess. Which is fine every once in awhile, but now that I have an endless array of “Saturdays” before me, enough is enough. I mean, really. If I hadn’t gone to church today, I don’t think that I would know that it’s Sunday.

And I’m realizing that these sweatpants have become a wardrobe siren. Really, they are too comfortable to not be enticingly lazy. They’re over eight years old, and everything about them is perfect, sweatpants-wise. They’re so wonderful that I hate having to change out of them, and they’re so worn-in that I hate to wear them outside. The problem is, this means that I tend to not leave the house. I realize how insane this sounds, but my sweatpants have become a vice. Like the gluttony of loungewear.

So I say, get behind me, sweatpants! Today, and every day hereafter, I am wearing a reasonable pair of jeans/shorts and/or a skirt/dress.

Ok, so today I technically wore leggings. But I wore them to church, and that’s an adult-like activity, so it counts.

More life-changes to come. This is happening, this adulthood.