The Motherhood of the Flattering Pants

We have a situation here.  Ever since I became a mother I have not been able to wear a pair of pants—regardless of size, style, fabric, or brand—without needing to hike them up every five seconds so as not to shock the innocent.  This isn’t a weight issue.  It’s a redistribution of assets issue.  Ladies, do you hear me?  Have you felt the shift?  Has a disproportionate amount of your flesh found its home in the hip region, while your butt has become so flat that JLo would weep to see it?  Does wearing a belt just compound the problem?

I’m not complaining.  Really.  I appreciate the whole my-post-partum-body-is-a-badge-of-honor diatribe. But still, pants are an issue.

With one notable exception:

In my closet, at this very moment, sit The Pants*.  The fact that They are still in my possession is, in itself, a miracle.  I bought Them in 1998. 

The store: TJ Maxx

The price: $14.99

The brand: Bubblegum

The size: irrelevant to this story, except to say that They fit.  They fit me now just as They fit me twelve years ago, on the blind date where I met my husband.  They fit me all the way through the second trimester of all three of my pregnancies—and when I got home from the hospital.  The Pants are, suffice it to say, magical.

And no, They are not sweatpants. 

They are 98% cotton, 2% spandex.  They are black velour, low rise, bootcut, with silver zippered pockets in front and silver snap pockets in back.  And They stay on my body as God intended pants to do. 

Every time I put Them on I get compliments. I appear three inches taller and ten pounds lighter.  I can rock Them with cowboy boots, open-toed sandals, or Chuck Taylors. If I could wear Them every day of my life, I would.

But I will not abuse The Pants. 

We have an agreement, The Pants and I.  If I use Them only when I absolutely need Them—my husband’s office Christmas party, book tours, PTO meetings where the bitchy mom who hates me will be checking out my ass, my 40th birthday—The Pants will be loyal.  They will stop fraying at the edges.  They will stay with me as long as I need them.  Until I’m ninety.  Or at least until Bubblegum reissues Style #BG1940-894B in white, grey, and brown.

*Full credit to Ann Brashares here.  If you haven’t read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants yet, you must.