Full disclosure--In less than two years, I will be 40. I am a grown woman, with a job, a husband, a child, a house, hobbies, friends. I am a swimmer and a runner. I like to do crafty projects. Occasionally, I have one more glass of wine than I should. I watch Hoarders and am obsessed with somewhat gruesome medical documentaries like Tree Man of Borneo. I have had my driver's license for almost 23 years.
In short, I am almost a grown-up. And yet, there are still the things my mother makes me wear. Here is my Christmas Eve outfit.
As you will notice, I have opted for several means of protecting my identity--namely, the Santa Hat and my son's sunglasses. Still, nothing saves me from the embarrassment of these Sock Monkey Feetie Pajamas.
This lovely fleece item was purchased for me as a get-well present when I was recovering from oral surgery. It certainly wasn't enough that one side of my face was swollen beyond recognition, and that I was unable to chew, therefore forced to have a liquid diet while the stitches inside my mouth healed. The level of discomfort was extraordinary--so why not add incredible humiliation to the mix?
There are several remarkable things about these pajamas. First is that they are INCREDIBLY HOT. Second is that even though they are very large, they give me a total wedge. Third, they have pockets, because every woman likes to emphasize their hips and perhaps needs a container for wadded up tissues. Fourth--they have sock monkey feet!! (which do not exactly fit.) Fifth, I purchased and my son is wearing right now, a set of glow-in-the-dark space shuttle feetie pajamas. (My beloved son, I am sorry in advance.)
Would I decline to wear this item? No, I would not. The real lesson here is that no matter how old you get, there are still the things "my parents made me wear."
Happy Holidays to all, and see you after Christmas!
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