Knickers & Track Suits

I don't know about you, but whenever I watch too much BBC I start sounding like I'm from over the pond. But I digress....I have to admit something to you people. And it's not going to be pretty and will probably shatter whatever delusions I have of you thinking I'm some glamourous big city girl with handbags in all sorts of colors and my new bangs that I perfectly style every single morning with a fine tooth comb.

Here goes: I wore the same work-out pants and tank top all weekend and had to take off and put back on said outfit several times on Monday morning before work before deciding it just wasn't appropriate to wear at my place of business. I also find myself thinking fondly of those clothes all day while I'm bent over the printer at work with my crack showing from these blasted "hig-hugger" jeans that I only can seem to find in major retail stores.

I told theMan that it must mean 3 things: 1.) I'm now so fat that I can sympathize with people on Jerry Springer who only fit into "sweats", or 2.) I'm a lazy, lazy, lazy girl who will now perm her hair and regress to sweatshirts with holiday patterns on them, or 3.) I plan on never getting laid again.

I seriously dreaded putting on jeans or even my beloved cords this morning because I knew they wouldn't feel nearly as good as those worn out track pants. I laid in bed fretting about it. Even looking forward to going to the gym this morning because, well, that was an additional hour I could wear my luxurious pants.

Egads, Trinny and Susannah, save me.