I proclaim that it is actually OK to protest wearing pants until the temperature drops below 60 degrees.
I can see how this first sentence could potentially put me in a poor light to those who don't know me. Allow me to explain (and defend the fact that I'm classier than I sound.)
I am a summer girl by nature. I feel more comfortable in attire conducive to acceptable tan lines. The moment the weather changes, forcing me out of my cover-ups and tanning oil, I tense up like a cat in cold water. Every bone in my body tries to resist approaching colder weather, and I think that's why if I try on the jeans burried in the dark corners of my closet before October strikes they are violently pulled off before even being completely zipped. The act of closing the thick material of denim (or even cotton) around my legs is as if someone is tightly closing a vital airway. I feel like I might pass out and die if I try to cover my legs before the thermometer reads 60 degrees. Exaggerate? I do not.
Maybe it's just me, but I see a direct correlation between leg coverage and butt comfort. For some reason with pants comes uncomfortable undies. And wedgies are just impossibly inconvenient in pants.
Also, pants are miserable in the rain. Even when it's only damp on the ground, the edges of my jeans always manage to get slightly wet enough to be irritating for the entire day. And don't even get me started when it's actually raining. Is there a worse feeling in the world than drenched jeans, weighing about 20 pounds from dirty rain water, making the most trivial tasks utterly depressing. Like sitting. Sitting stinks in less-than-dry pants.
Unfortunately, I reached the point in my wardrobe where re-wearing worn "dry-clean only" dresses was no longer an option without looking like a hobo. I had to resort to the inevitable: pants. Mind you, I had to borrow a pair of khakis from my roommate because teacher pants have not yet made their return from their summer vacation to the attic. Seriously. After groaning for the complete 3 minute period between pajamas and departure in long khakis, I walked to my car...in the rain. Imagine my excitement.
I've been in my placement since August and yesterday was the first day I arrived in pants. A momentous day, indeed.
Today, I had to give myself a break and reverted back to my favorite
wrinkled pencil skirt. It was 58 degrees outside and I was cold, but my legs were happy. And that's OK, right?