In the days of Downton Abbey, people dressed for dinner — special, like gowns and tuxedos.
So last night Pete said, Let’s go out to dinner. Spur of the moment, because that’s Pete. I hemmed and hawed. I didn’t feel like cooking, but fish was thawing in the fridge. I should probably just cook, I said, because I’m practical like that. Oh, c’mon, Pete said, because it’s his life’s work to tempt and lure me into irresponsible behavior. (I always say it’s a good thing I didn’t meet him when I was still in school).
Anyway, I was wearing my yoga pants (one of six, or is it seven?). Unless I’m planning to go out, yoga pants are my daily standard. Heck, I’m a writer, but I do like to get dressed in the morning. Yoga pants beat jammies, hands down. Besides, I don’t own any pjs.
Yoga pants are uber comfortable, and unlike all my jeans, I don’t have to keep yanking them up. (Will someone come up with a pair of non-mom jeans that stay up without a belt? Or maybe it’s just my Asian butt. Does anyone else have this problem?) Best of all, when I’m ready to workout, I’m already dressed.
The restaurant is a little sushi place in town. Nothing fancy. I could think of it as a quick jaunt down to the 7-Eleven. Same thing, right? Pete wouldn’t care if I wore yoga pants.
But still, it was a date. And if I’m not going to dress for a date, when am I going to dress?
So I sat in the dimly lit sushi restaurant, my jean clad legs and cowboy boots under the sushi bar the entire time. On our way out, we nodded goodbye to the sushi chefs, who I doubt could see my legs over the bar, and made our way into the night. Pete was ahead of me, so he wasn’t looking, either. Two minutes later, we were sitting in a dark car on our way home. I had to wonder. Was it worth it? Not the date, of course. Changing out of my yoga pants, getting “dressed” for dinner.
When my sister and I were young teenagers, we made a pact. No matter how old we got, we would not let each other wear shapeless “house dresses.” No one even knows what those are anymore, thankfully, but it’s still possible to slip into that frumpy look as a lifestyle. Especially if you’re a stay at home person. And even if you’re not. Pretty much anything goes these days.
Maybe I’m just getting older, but I can see how easy it is to end up in a 2013 version of the old house dress. Hey, maybe that’s yoga pants! My sister and I may need to update our pact.
Your thoughts?