These pants got me thinking about pride. Well, these pants and this set of morality plays. You see, when I tiddled about in the rockery in what I imagined was an era-appropriate pair of pigtails, I did not get a set of photos that made me feel proud of the pants that I had just made.
although wide of leg are slim of hip. Bless the drafter, the crotch is dropped enough to avoid one set of fitting woes but another emerged in the photos. My belly bulge. In particular, the way my belly bulges over the ridge of my (unplanned) caesarean scar.
You probably can’t see it because I deleted a googolplex of images before I settled on the hand-picked few that would be allowed a public airing. Such pride, such vanity. I feel that it begs a question or five…
Am I proud that I have grown children in that belly? Yes.
Do I like how my belly looks under certain clothing? No.
Am I going to spend the rest of my life doing The Plank for two hours a day? No.
Do I need to get used to an older, lumpier version of myself? Yes.
Have I lost the point of this post? Yes.
Pride, let me make it a force for good. Encouraging me to work precisely for a fit and finish of which I can be proud. Ladies and gentlemen, these are The Purple Pants of Pride.
Small print : This is my second #VintagePledge 2016. Here’s my first. Squee (very excited noise), this might be the next one: