I do not like pants. I’d much prefer to wear a skirt or dress every day. There are a few reasons why I turned my back on pants: 1. my hips (ahem, and behind) grew disproportionate to my waist during my growing-up years (but really, who’s to say what’s disproportionate?); 2. the search for proper fitting jeans is endless, mind-numbing, and degrading; 3. skinny jeans with too little stretch are rather constricting; 4. I lived in Florida, so I didn’t really need to wear pants.

But now I live in a clime where fall and winter are real events, not just markers of time. The weather has been mild for the most part, but I’m beginning to regret walking from my car to work in a dress and knee high socks. My thighs are numb by the time I arrive. I need to suck it up and wear some pants (that sounds like a sexist metaphor, but if it weren’t sexist, I’d say that I just created a pretty great double meaning in that sentence).

I forced myself to brainstorm outfits that aren’t atrocious to get myself excited about jeans-wearing.