I haven’t always been the type of woman who wears yoga pants on a regular basis. No, not that long ago I was a decently well dressed career woman who loved a good pantsuit as much as the next one. Nowadays, I’m taking full advantage of lack of dress code at our home office…so much so that it has recently dawned on me that I’ve gone WEEKS (with the exception of going to church, I have some class after all) without wearing “real pants”. This is possible partly because it’s still, in mid October, insanely hot in South Texas and the THOUGHT of denim makes me sweat and partly because that’s how far I’ve fallen.
- The Throwback– These Good ‘Ole Boys have your Greek Letters or College emblem stitched into the leg. They remind you of the glory days when all nighters weren’t supervised by a newborn and the only bottle you cared about was the fifth of Fireball used for pregaming on Thirsty Thursday. They are typically worn on College Game Day- hey, you’re still relevant!
- Mrs. Fancy Pants– These threads are saved for special occasions: boozy lunches, dates with your waxing lady, and the like. They tote name brands like Tory and Lulu and make an appearance when you have to go out in public but can’t be bothered to put on a dress or bottoms with zippers or pockets. They are typically paired with oversized sunglasses and a ballet flats.
- Old Faithful– These darlings are well-loved and well-worn. They are worn no less than 3 times a week. The only thing more terrifying than wearing real pants is the thought of losing Old Faithful one day. These babies may be from the Maternity section of your local Target but you are sporting them well into your youngest’s third year. They are paired with toddler boogers and 3-day unwashed hair.
- The “I workout”– These britches are the least used of all types of yoga pants. Reserved for the (very) rare instances that you take up your fit friends on a workout invite, they see the light of day approximately 3 times a year and are stored with your pride behind college party dresses and 6 inch heels. They are paired with angry sweat and regret-filled pizza and beer.
Please, please tell me I’m not the only one categorizing my yoga pants. Anyone?
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