Happy Pants, or Celebrating 1/8th Milestones (nowhere near an actual mile, but on the road)

(aka Zen and the Art of Baby Steps)

I am working hard to appreciate little moments, little things. This is a little thing. Microscopic, really…

So a while back I found an old journal of mine, I think I was 13 or 14 when I poured out my thoughts into this little notebook. One funny thing I came across: even then, I thought my legs looked like manatees. Manatees was the actual word I used to describe them. Maybe because I have always been uber-caucasian (people frequently asked me if I was sick, I am so naturally pale), or maybe because my legs were the only part of me with any juice,  I just thought my kind of juicy legs looked like manatees. Maybe this is why I have always liked manatees, I just felt like we were simpatico, somehow…

I like lettuce, manatees like lettuce...I like Florida, manatees like Florida...

And I know, for people who know me in real life, this sounds ridiculous, but as much as I’ve always been on the beanpole side of physique, I have pretty sturdy legs, apparently from my Grandfather’s genes.

I tend to skew a little bit like a cartoon character...This is why even in comics I draw myself wearing a dress, usually.

There is no deep life lesson here, in case you are wondering. I know.

I just have tended to be stupidly self-conscious about my lack of proportion. What can I say, I have some ocd tendencies, and the dis-proportional thing bugs. Running only made my legs bigger—stronger, which I really love, I love the feeling of mightiness I get from exercise—that’s another blog entry about my climb up Mt. Yikes-- but running has not been super conducive to skinny jeans.

First World “Problem”, exhibit A.

But recently, through a weird series of events (mostly involving Survivor Kid’s happiness as discovered in snazzy knit clothing) I discovered that Happy Pants are a thing, and that it doesn’t matter what shape I have—leggings in crazy patterns actually can help me be happy (small “h”, but still happy).

My first pair of Happy Pants were supposed to be a Yeti Homage, but they didn’t fit.  I only bought them for the Yetis. . .

And these knit Leggings did not fit. I was like a miserable human sausage in Yeti Casing. 

This would generally be enough to derail me forever (HOW CAN MY LEGS BE TOO BIG FOR LEGGINGS? PANTS THAT LITERALLY ARE JUST A KNIT TUBE OF STRETCHINESS??), but since you can’t return anything to this particular company (just exchange), and these were more than I would normally spend on leggings (which I had not worn since I was pregnant with firstborn back in 1994), I was committed.

I finally found a Sesame Street-esque pair of pants to replace the Yeti-Fail.

Well, these are some HAPPY PANTS.

When I opened the envelope I had a moment of “what have I done? Sweet Jesus what have I done? “ ala Jean Valjean.   I set them on the pile of random t-shirts I am trying to purge on the cedar chest in my room, and tried to get used to the CRAZY TRIPPY SESAME STREET 1969 PINBALL COUNTING PATTERN THING GOING ON. Yes, the pants yelled at me from across the room every time I walked by.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE, SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN, ELEVEN TWELVE…DOO DOO DEE DOO DOO DOO….

my childhood in a video...

Now I had these pants, I had to find something appropriately subdued and Coleman-Tent sized enough to cover most of them/me.  Nothing was right.  After about 3 months I found a swingy black t-shirt at Target, bought it a size big, and finally wore the Happy Pants…

In my house.

When nobody was home except the dog, and she’s color blind, right? Aren’t dogs color blind?

Ok, so the secret pants were comfy. I felt…perky. Perky is not in the same time zone as my natural state, so…this was interesting.  While my legs now looked like crazy trippy Sesame Street 1969 Pinball Counting Manatees, I kind of didn’t care.

So what if I’m not exactly 29? So what if I am sturdy in ye olde leg department?

My epiphany?

Leggings are Happy Pants.

This is silly. This is such a small thing, my “hey, I can wear leggings!.” But the other day I wore a pair of leggings with flowers on them to the library. A PUBLIC LIBRARY. And at Christmas I wore Christmasy leggings to my niece’s performance of The Nutcracker. I feel festive and peppy and comfy and yay, and I kind of don’t feel that self-conscious about my shape in these Happy Pants. I wear black leggings all the time now, and feel comfy and boppy and energized.

Placebo effect? Maybe. I’ll take it. It’s a baby step in terms of self-acceptance, but it is a baby step in a very comfy direction.  I remember the first time I wore yoga pants, I had to mentally prepare myself. I am about as flexible as I am perky.  Heck, I remember when I first got SANDALS or wore a sleeveless shirt (I used to be self-conscious about my feet and my weirdly long arms. Yes, I needed therapy. BABY STEPS). Baby steps are still steps.

I have not worn the Crazy Trippy Sesame Street 1969 Pinball Counting leggings out in public yet.

Yet.

But I might. And I bet other people will feel happy when they see them. Maybe only happy that they are NOT wearing such crazy pants, but maybe these crazy pants will make someone else smile, too.

And hey, sharing joy is one of the best things we can share, right?