For the past four days, I have existed in pajamas.  Not the same pajamas, that would be gross!  Pajamas are my best friend.  They’re brushed flannel friendship calls me sometimes when I cannot answer, but for the last four days my husband has been out of town and I have not had to leave the house, and it has been a pajama super party around here.

When I was working and I had to wear business clothes day in and day out, the ultimate luxury was putting on jeans and a t-shirt.  I longed for casual Fridays.  The place I worked required you to make a $10 donation to a children’s charity in order to have the luxury of wearing jeans. Though I didn’t have a lot of petty cash I always managed to have the $10.  Later, when I was doing medical transcription at home I was able to wear jeans daily and I discovered that sweats were much more comfortable than jeans.  Sweats became my uniform.  I had a variety of colors and styles.   I was wearing them daily but I didn’t look sloppy and I could go out in public wearing them.  I learned, while going back to college, that it doesn’t so much matter what you wear as long as your hair and make-up look good.  Well, I’m good at hair and make-up, so I went full drag above the shoulders and wore the most casual clothing I could get by with.  I was good with my sweats from then on.  Make no mistake,  I know how to dress.  My closet is full of clothes.  I have dresses, pantsuits, khakis, and enough sweaters to outfit Alaska.  I have shoes out the wazoo.  I have more coats than would ever be necessary, and I can accessorize to the nines.  I just don’t do it as much anymore.

My oldest sister told me once, as I commented on the fact that she didn’t go out without a coat, hat, gloves, scarf, and umbrella regardless of the weather, “you will reach a point in life where comfort means more than cute.”  At the time I thought that was the biggest bunch of crap I had ever heard.  Nothing was more important than being cute.  Cute was all I had.  I would never be tall or thin.  I wasn’t likely to be viewed in the “do this” column of any fashion magazine, but I was cute (Cute, for those who don’t know, is a combination of sassy and short). Cute was my claim to fame.  Then age stepped on my face and ran it’s big ass truck over my body.  Suddenly, none of those clothes in my closet fit quite the same.  Cute was out the window.  The dresses bunched at my non-existent waist.  The jeans rolled over at the waistband, and the pantsuits rode up like a hero in a western.  Not only was cute not happening, comfortable was in danger of becoming extinct as well.  The final straw was when they took out my uterus.  Suddenly blossoming didn’t happen only in spring and I was cold all the time.  Enter pajamas.

Pajamas!  This little word was the answer to all my problems.  I dig p.j.’s like no one else.  I found out that while you’re in pajamas, no one expects you to get out and accomplish things.  While your in pajamas the world assumes you are an invalid and shouldn’t be expected to run errands, go out for lunch, or take care of all the mundane things that make up life.   Pajamas don’t require underwear!  In fact, underwear is frowned upon by those of the pajama life.  Pajamas can be cute.  I know, because I have tons of cute pajamas.  I buy my girls cute pajamas every Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Halloween and gift giving occasion. I wish my husband would do the same.  I love them in t-shirt material, flannel, cotton, and silk.  I love them with short bottoms and long pants, tank tops and full length tops.  I love them loose and flowing, because let’s face it, if they aren’t loose and flowing they run the risk of being lingerie!  I hate lingerie!!  My pajama obsession has become so widely known that my children refer to me as “pajama mama”.  It’s lovely.

I am constantly in search of a higher level of comfort.  The progression has been gradual. I wanted to ease my husband in to the fact that I no longer dress for success.  I now dress for comfort.  I know I’m probably not there yet.  I mean there are still mu mus to consider.  Just as science is progressing towards more and more advances in health, there are sure to be advances in comfort.  Perhaps the ultimate comfort hasn’t been reached yet.  Keeping this in mind, and knowing how much I love my pajamas, I can’t wait to be there for the unveiling of whatever comes next!  Sign me up, put me in line, reserve my copy, do whatever it takes but get me there.  As long as it’s not nudity, lord knows that wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone.