I don’t usually wear yoga pants out in public. In fact, I don’t think I ever have before with the exception of yoga class, naturally. But tonight I did.
It all started with my decision to take a relaxing bath immediately upon returning to my apartment after work. (It was a wonderful bath. Don’t diss it ’til ya try it.) Of course I changed into my lounge clothes afterward which consisted of a tank top and yoga pants. No big deal. I was just going to have some dinner, maybe exercise and then dive head first into my new blogging plans. Trouble is, I had skipped the grocery shopping on the way home plan because I really wanted that relaxing bath! The contents of my refrigerator included a stick of butter, celery, beets, a green pepper and a pound of frozen turkey. I wanted pasta.
I had pasta, a bag of alphabet pasta in fact, and a can of oysters desperately in need of something to add flavor. Bingo! I’ll just cook up some letters, throw together a white sauce and add the oysters! No sooner had I put the water on for the pasta that I remembered that moment right before I walked out the door of the shop…the moment when I decided to leave my milk at work because I only drink it during the day…when I’m at work. White sauce needs milk. It also needs cheese and I was out of cheese.
I succumbed to the fact that I was going to have to either gnaw on some celery or go to the grocery store. I saw no reason at all to get dressed for the third time that day just to go grab two items and only be seen by strangers who are used to women in yoga pants and couldn’t care less about my attire. So I didn’t. My French ancestors would be horrified.
I did strap on my little Ruger over the yoga pants and grabbed flip flops and my moto jacket for a look that turned out better than I expected. I could easily have been mistaken for someone headed home from the gym instead of just a pasta and cheese fanatic.
I had no idea I would see my father.
But see my father I did indeed and for a fleeting second I honestly considered hiding. Just let him pass on by and he’ll never know. It’ll be easy, my dad tends to live his own little world half the time anyway. I can totally hide from him and he’ll never be subjected to the sight of his middle daughter in yoga pants.
But I decided that was ridiculous so I said Hi as if nothing in the world was amiss. The up and down look and slightly quizzical expression at my outfit was not lost on me, but he didn’t say a word. I love my father, by the way.
He continued home and I went on my merry way shopping at Walmart in yoga pants. Did I mention I also ran into, almost literally, a very good-looking, smiling blonde who actually does go to the gym?(I guarantee it, no doubt in my mind whatsoever.) Yes, in addition to the yoga pants, greasy hair and no make up may have also been a part of my ensemble.
Note to self: Be like the French. Get dressed before you go out. Or stay home and eat celery.
Note: It turns out that my dad didn’t even notice what I was wearing. It did make a good story though….