Turning Forty-Two Tuesday: Pants Are Not Always Bullshit*

You know you've lost any fashion cred you may have had when you own something called, "formal yoga pants". Well, technically, they are the Starfish pants from Lands End. (I linked to them because I love them and recommend them even though I get no credit/money/love for doing so). Anyway, I was talking to my wonderful friend Lisa the other day and explaining why I haven't been to book club in forever. 

Me: Sometimes I just don't want to get out of my yoga pants and go out in public.

Lisa: I just wear my yoga pants. 

Me: Oh, I'm not talking about my good yoga pants, I'm talking about. . .

Lisa: The ones with the holes in them?

As the conversation continued, I realized that I have 2 levels of yoga pants: holey and formal. "Formal" meaning I wear them out in public and I work out in them and may have been out to dinner in them. The kind I would totally wear to book club, if Hot Guy didn't always seem to have rehearsal or something happening on book club nights. But it's the holey ones, the ones I would have turned into rags a few years ago, that are my favorites. 

I have not worn them in public yet, but I fear it might happen if all of my formal yoga pants are in the laundry and I have to run to the grocery store at 10pm because I've forgotten to make the brownies for the following day's class party. 

At almost forty-two, I know I'm not going to embrace lounging in jeans or other attire that is appropriate in public. Frankly, the world is pretty fortunate that I consistently wear a bra and don't run around in my flannel pajama bottoms. So either I'm going to have to patch the holey yoga pants, or buy more Starfish pants. 

Are patched yoga pants really any better than pajama bottoms, though? 

*With apologies to Aunt Becky, who might disagree. 

Only a Family Member Can Sign You Up for Hoarders, Right?

It's not that I don't want to buy Girl Scout cookies from your kid. I do. I love Thin Mints. I love that now you can donate box right on the form.

But please don't show up at my house unannounced.

See the table? It always looks like that.

I do not keep a neat house. This is one of our family resolutions for 2013, but we haven't achieved it quite yet. And on Sunday afternoons when it's not soccer season and we're not going to Grammy's house and there aren't any birthday parties and the weather is cold and the budget is tight? You are likely to find us all in our pajamas. In our messy house. My hair will be unwashed. The trash bags will be by the door because it's trash night.

I should have written this post last week because not only one but TWO little Girl Scouts showed up at our house today. Even worse, we actually knew the second Girl Scout.

Did I mention that there are also two broken lamps by the front door? And another huge pile of junk that's getting donated next week? Oh, and our walls are so desperately in need of paint that I have covered them with the children's drawings?

Any one of these factors wouldn't stress me out. But all of them? At the same time? With people who don't already appreciate how charming I am?

Yikes.

They're lucky I bought any cookies at all. But you know, Thin Mints.

I would love to be one of those people who's ready to entertain at the drop of a hat. I think I actually used to be one of those people. But I'm not now. So consider this a warning:

Don't show up unannounced if you want me to buy something from your kid. Or if you'd rather not know how slovenly I really am.

Okay?