Bodies

Yesterday, while in town, my sister and I saw a girl walking with her friend. They were both dressed, as lots of younger people are at the moment, in very tight jeans and a cropped top. One of the girls was very slim and one of the girls was not. Now people should wear whatever they like but the larger of the girls looked so uncomfortable, enough for us to comment on it. She looked just fine, but uncomfortable and it just seemed so sad that she felt like that when she should have been out relaxing with her friend.

In reality, clothes should be practical and comfortable, a uniform almost. They should be warm in the winter and cool in the summer and there should be no prices attached. A top would cost whatever and trousers whatever and we all wear the same. Can you imagine how liberating that would be. Wear them baggy if you want, tight if you prefer and get on with your day.

Almost like pajamas. I said this to my sister today as I mulled over this thought. I never feel anything other than comfortable when I’m in my pajamas. They are practical and comfortable, cotton mostly and cuffed at the leg, I can crawl around after Poppy, I can play with the big girls, I can cook, bathe the kids, almost entirely without thinking about what I’m wearing. I put a hoodie on if it’s cold, take it off if I’m warm and I don’t think at all about any of it.

Now I’m lucky that I don’t have any body issues. I have the usual insecurities, but they are very minor and generally I like my body. I prefer it in winter covered up admittedly and I am a bit nervy about the upcoming summer and dresses and shorts and things but I am lucky. However, a couple of weeks ago, on our anniversary, I got dressed in a dress and jumper, tights and boots and went out with J to look at a flat. I hated the outfit almost as soon as we got in the car but there wasn’t time to change. I could barely concentrate on looking at this flat because I wanted to rip all my clothes off. We looked at the flat and I came home and got changed.

Rationally, I am aware that I looked fine. But in my head, I didn’t and I needed to come home and put my jeans on. I did and I felt immediately as if a weight had been lifted. And that’s the same as pajamas. Warm, comfortable, almost comforting. Maybe it’s because they are associated with home. And that just my four see me in them mostly. And love me either way. Or maybe they are just comfortable.

This is an ode to pajamas.