Come on... Tell me the truth... Did you click on this post because of the title? You sick puppy! I'm not here to talk about senior citizens performing a pole dance. No, think more 'Granny sitting around in the too-thin nightgown'. That's my mom. If you stop by her apartment anytime after five, she's sitting around in her night gown. I'm going to be her someday...
Remember when your kids were little and there was always at least one that you had to keep an eye on for fear of them stripping down in public? When one of my grands (won't mention any names here) was small, I didn't know she had any clothing besides panties. Mommy and Daddy could not keep her clothes on her! I'm not sure whether it was about restriction or temperature; but obviously she was more comfortable naked.
Most of us are not so comfortable naked, especially in public. As a matter of fact, we're quite comfortable in our clothes. Of course, when we have to dress up for special occasions, we often slip into something more comfortable when we get home. I've found that what I think to be comfortable changes through the years.
When I was in my thirties, as soon as I got home from work, off came the shoes! I've always been a barefoot girl. Even during my six-inch-heels days; at home I was barefoot. In the cold season, I'd slide on my favorite slippers. Comfy.
In my forties, came the bra... When I got home from work, I kicked off the shoes and took off my bra. I'd grab an nice cold glass of tea and plop down in my T-shirt and jeans. Ah... then I was comfortable.
Now, I'm in my fifties , retired, and living on this little farm. If you read my farm blog, you know my life is very casual. Dressed up is putting on something with sleeves. But I'm no longer comfortable sitting around in T-shirt and jeans. For one thing, I'm at that point in life where a T-shirt is just plain too hot! For another, jeans are no longer comfortable. Hard to imagine? I don't know why, but I'm just never really relaxed until I've slipped into my jammy pants. As a matter of fact, there are days that I don't get out of my jammy pants. My horses don't seem to care, so might as well be comfy.
Now, I'm not the person you see going to the grocery in their PJs... yet. But I am the person standing in the funky jammy pants beside the mailbox on that country road. I'm starting to get worried though... It seems I have a few pairs of jammy pants that just aren't that comfortable. Maybe I'll ask Mom where she gets those night gowns.
