Ode to yoga pants

The Admiral calls what I wear daily my uniform.  Yoga pants, t-shirt (with usually various levels of spit-up, snot, or drool accumulated on it by about 9am), socks with holes in the toe (I think to buy the kids socks, but do I think to buy ME socks?  No.), and ponytail.  Thank God the man actually loves me, because I don't know anyone else that could find that attractive enough to have 4 kids with, but here we are.

Yoga pants are probably the most wonderful creation in the world.  They are stretchy.  They are soft.  They do not cut into your stomach when you have to bend over to do sidewalk chalk for 20 minutes at a time.  They ebb and flow as your hormones do.  Fat day? Yoga pants understand.  Skinny day?  Yoga pants think you look amazing, look how they hang off of your hips so seductivly.  Lost a little weight lately, look how cute you look with them rolled down a bit.  Gain a little weight, yoga pants get it, no one is perfect.  Yoga pants are there for you. 

And at the end of the day, who is there for you then, when yoga pants are ready to be thrown into the washer?  Who is ready to be tagged in?  It's equally amazing cousin, pajama bottoms.  Pajama bottoms do the same job as yoga pants, with the added benefit of cute charactors on it.  Just to be a little cheeky.  Yes, that is cookie monster on my butt, how cute am I?  (and how ironic, because after the kids go to bed, I turn INTO cookie monster on the couch.) And sometimes if you are lucky enough to have them, they are a little fuzzy, and super super soft.  Like sleeping on little baby chicks, without the gory detail of squishing them, and blood and feathers all over the bed.  Sweet sweet sleep isn't that far away when pajama bottoms are in your corner. 

I know that it may not be the most attractive attire that I own.  I know that it may not be the most flattering, but you know, in this season of my life, with creature comforts few and far between, when I am taking prison showers, and skip shaving my legs for the umpteenth time, and when I am at maximum capacity for mucus, poop, and vomit... yoga pants and pajama bottoms are there for me.  Unlike you, traitorous jeans, who shrink at a moment's notice and you khaki pants who can't deal with cheeto fingers.  Yoga pants do this with grace and forgiveness. 

Thank you yoga pants.