A Letter to My Leggings
I think we need to talk. There was a time when you always had my back... or, at least, my backside. You made me look darn good in boots and in sneakers, at the gym and on the street. You stuck by me through college, through babies, and after babies, which was infinitely worse, and never let so much as a muffin top come between us. I always knew I could count on you to hold up your end, or rather, my end, and keep things looking good back there. We were a great team.
But lately, you haven't really been there for me. Ever since I hit a certain age, it seems like you've been somewhat less supportive. I've noticed there have been times when I bend over and you take a dive, or suddenly become see-through, or simply sag in the seat. You used to make me look awesome. Now it seems as if you've given up the cause. Was it something I said? Was it the Mom Jeans I bought? It was an impulse purchase, I swear.
I know we've spent less time together lately. Back in the day I had many versions of you -- stirrups, capris, bike shorts... Lycra, cotton, Spandex... black, blue and racing-striped. I've dropped a bundle at Bloomies and pledged my allegiance to Lululemon. But over the years I guess I've scaled back on my lust for leggings, opting instead to follow the fickle fashion trends of cargo pants and high-rise jeans. I even traded in leggings for jeggings, the ugly stepsister of leggings and jeans. It wasn't you... it was me. Gravity took over my midlife body and suddenly those parts that used to look good in leggings were now rebelling in unfortunate ways. Chubby thighs in tights on a toddler is cute. On a middle-aged mom? Not so much.
I'm not sure exactly when the tide began to turn for us. Perhaps it was after my second child when I started pairing my leggings with Uggs and a bathrobe to drive to the grocery store. Or maybe it was later, when my first kid went off to college and I got depressed and wore the same leggings for a week while I ate Doritos on my sofa and binge-watched Netflix. I know none of this was your fault. But I expected you to stick with me through the tough times, not turn your back on me when I needed you most, during menopause.
Come on, leggings... We used to be so good together! Can we put aside our petty differences and come together for a mutually beneficial arrangement? I'll keep you fashionably relevant, and you'll keep me from looking lumpy in the trunk. It's a win-win for both of us!
Thanks so much for considering.
Your partner in polyester,
Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.
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