Ode to a stretch pant

Dear stretch pants-

I got up this morning with nothing to wear. I have realized that I only have 2 pairs of pants that fit me right now and don't be upset when I say that you were a last resort.

So there you were. All navy blue and folded nicely in the back of my closet. I don't think I've worn you since the early 90's but you have shown faith by following me to my many residences over the years knowing full well that at some point, I would break down and put you on. I admire your patience, dear stretch pants.

I eyed you suspiciously and held you up to my legs to see if there was still a chance that the lycra could fit over my swollen legs and stomach. After much trepidation, I threw caution to the wind and put you on...and it was delightful.

I choose to overlook the fact that you accentuate my granny-panty lines and that my legs somewhat resemble a link of bratwurst when I wear you. I try to ignore that you exacerbate the fact that the only thing that I have steadily eaten for the past 9 months is peanutbutter and gummi bears which has proven to alter the appearance of my thighs.

But really, that doesn't matter because I am wearing a little piece of heaven right now.I was so grateful to your existence that I decided to wear you to work today with the hopes that my coworkers don't talk behind my back. I figure, if there is any time to take advantage of your cruel cruel comfortability, being 9 months pregnant is the time to get away with it. And if it means anything at all, I wish I found the courage to start wearing you several months ago.

Thank you, dear stretch pants, for quietly living in the back of my closet for nearly 20 years. You have done this pregnant woman a world of comfort.

All my love and loyalty-

me.