When Function Meets Fit Check (Sort Of)
I slipped into my brand-new black jeggings and a blouse after my shower, ready to tackle a full day of conferencing. Feeling moderately confident and maybe even a little stylish (a midlife miracle), I began my transformation into a functioning adult—applying makeup, straightening my hair, and psyching myself up for small talk and a packed schedule.
As I bent to lace up my ankle boots, I noticed something wonderful. My new jeggings had front pockets! Real front pockets! No more fake, stitched-closed pocket lookalikes like my old faded pair. What a triumph for functionality.
Feeling victorious, I shuffled over to the mirror for a quick fit check. That’s when I noticed the odd addition of a yoke across the front of the pants. Hmm. Interesting design choice. But really, these are kind of horrid.
As I stood there, I realized it wasn’t the design. It was me. Specifically, me wearing my pants backward.
The big, square pockets I had just celebrated were positioned front and center, like a billboard announcing, "She’s not aging gracefully; she’s just aging in a weird and discombobulated way." And there was now a beacon calling attention to my spare tire’s spare tire. That’s similar to a double, double chin but in the belly region.
And to think, I was about to march into the convention center to serve as a state delegate, confidently sporting reverse pants all day. Let’s just say, that would have been a bold statement in the world of educational policy.
Here’s the thing about midlife: It’s humbling, full of these ridiculous moments that remind us we’re human. But instead of panicking, we can laugh, turn our pants around, and keep going. Because midlife isn’t about perfection or keeping up appearances. It’s about owning our mishaps and realizing that a sense of humor is way more valuable than a wrinkle-free forehead or trendy jeans. That and celebrating that I can still put on pants without assistance. Arthritis, anyone?
By this stage in life, we’ve earned the right to mess up—backward pants and all. So let’s not take ourselves too seriously. Life’s too short not to laugh at ourselves. And hey, at least I discovered those pockets are big enough to hold a snack and my dignity.
How are you laughing at yourself these days?
Oh, yes…..crossing my legs in church noticing my shoe, not remembering that I’d worn that pair…I hadn’t-the other foot had a different shoe 😵💫
Grandchildren keep us humble… like, “Mosie, why you have those lines by your eyes when you laugh?” I can either scowl (which does not remove said lines, by the way, but only calls them to deeper attention) or l can say, “They’re a gift from your dad,” and go on! Baby, I’ve earned these laugh lines! 🤣