Granny-pants

I caved. I bought (on sale) some granny-pants. You know the kind - elasticized waist, that kinda wrinkly-crinkly fabric, and a draw-string bit on top.

They're not what I'd choose as stylish, but they sure are comfy! I needed to replace my work pants, and these have done just nicely. For now.... You see, I think I've lost the battle of the bulge, or at least put it on hold for winter. I simply don't have the energy when there's no sunlight around to get up in the dark and exercise. I'd much rather just sleep in. So I do. The shops are too far to walk, and work is so close that it's not much exercise. Now and then I'll do a few hours strolling - like the mountain ramble we did 2 weeks back - but it's by no means regular, nor to be considered strenuous exercise. Having a homework-bound child implies no chance of post-work gym. And a desk job just doesn't do a thing for the heart-rate.

(Wonder if my latest fudge run-in is not rather defeating the purpose...!?)

One pair of my new pants replaces those that got a hole in the knee during a spectacular wipe-out on my way to work a few months back. Can't fix the hole, and the new pants are the same ever-useful beige.

The other pair perfectly matches my only jersey, which perfectly matches my eyes - making them look astoundingly blue.

Yeah I know, I probably have wobble-butt syndrome when observed from the back while walking, especially if whatever top I'm wearing is not long enough to cover said wobble-butt. But honestly - would I rather be stylish, or comfortable? These days it's the latter.

So just call me granny-pants. Until I can shape up and trim down and fit into all those fancy, hip-hugging (leg-numbing), mini-size things everyone else my age seems to wear. Don't care. I'm comfy!

More to hold, more fat to burn in winter to keep me warm etc. etc. etc. Come summer though it may be an entirely different story.
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On a separate (but related) note - ever noticed how those fancy-shmancy magazine programmes (ie Top Billing and co.) tend to make one want to run out and buy designer outfits, drive 2-million-buck cars, live in houses that cover small city blocks and generally aspire to things beyond the reach of mere mortal man? It's pretty depressing - but I console myself by watching such programmes in slippers and baggy tracksuit pants, with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a dogwarmer on the legs.