If you’re not a fat ass, you can back up and leave this blog post unnoticed now and we won’t speak of it again. Okay, now that we have that covered. Ladies! I feel the need to profess my undying love for all things maternity jeans. My life’s mantra has always been, “the world would be a much better place if pajama pants were acceptable attire for the workplace.” Am I right?! Whatever life throws at you, no matter how many inane tasks and ass hats you face each day, you’re always going to respond better while wearing a nice pair of pajama pants. And no, not pajama jeans. Whoever made those needs to back the fuck up from inventing anything in the future.
I have three drawers full of the comfiest pajama and yoga pants I could get my hands on. If I find a pair I like, I buy them in every pattern and color. You can’t chance it on a bad pair folks! Since I’m now a stay at home mom, yoga pants are my uniform. They’re every stay at home mom’s uniform. Most people say you can’t trust a mom whose home looks like children don’t live there. That I can let slide because I have OCD about cleaning my own home. This mama can’t trust a woman who gets up, dresses, styles their hair and puts on makeup all before their kids rise for the day. My youngest wakes at 5am. I sure as shit ain’t dragging my ass outta bed for those shenanigans at 330am. Nope. Not gonna do it.
When I was about 4 months along with L, I discovered the wondrous beauty of maternity jeans. Oh the glory. Oh the loveliness. Oh the spandex! They are by far and away the best fashion invention ever made. Stretchy on top, hidden by an oversized shirt and jeans on the bottom. Party up top, business on the bottom. Like the mullet. Oh the mullet. Who doesn’t love a delicious, flowing mullet?
Since I got pregnant when L was only 6 months- SURPRISE!!- I’ve been wearing maternity jeans for two years now. T is 9 months and I take no shame in admitting my favorite pair of jeans has been and continues to be the first pair of maternity jeans I purchased back in 2011. They fit like a dream, make my legs look stellar and there is no horrid button and fly digging into all my fat mama bits. Oh, and those fat Erica bits that were there long before my mama days.
Will I retire these bad boys? Likely not anytime soon. I adore them. I have since bought regular, old, boring jeans- but they have this serious flaw of not having a large, flesh- colored, stretchy tube to hold in my gut. You know, I think they made a movie out of it in the 90s called Flubber.
So, I hereby support the use of maternity jeans when one isn’t even close to being pregnant. Wear the shit out of those fuckers proudly! Scream it from the rooftops! And if you aren’t or have never been pregnant, go buy some for the love of Pete! Next time I see y’all in public, I’ll flash my fleshy gut-tubing for moral support!