Homage to sweatpants, my mother & the cold temps

 First, a little Haiku for a chilly day:

Air so cold, skin aches
leaves us trapped inside our homes
life slows, sweatpants rule

Second, a little anecdote:

Several years ago, before I had my daughter and I still lived out east, I was visiting my mom here in Minnesota during the winter months. Sub-zero temperatures were moving through and I was dressed, I thought, appropriately in jeans over long underwear. I felt rather snug and warm, encased in fabric from head to toe. My mom, however, had some issue with my clothing choice. She of the "my way is the only correct way" mindset, is intensely anti-denim in the winter. It's too cold next to your skin, she says. Which is why I chose long underwear to insulate me from the icy interior of my jeans. But that was oddly and inexplicably irrelevant to her.

So she says to me, in her finest irritated, critical and verging on angry voice, "Don't you own any sweatpants?" Because sweatpants, preferably purchased for no more than $9.99/pair, is her go to choice of bottoms on a frigid, winter day.

And I responded, with as much disdain and condescension as I could muster, "Mom, I don't wear sweatpants out in public."

I was perfectly comfortable, god-damnit, why did she have to harass me about my choice of pants? Even if I didn't have the essential base layer under my denim, what was it to her? It's no skin off her ass if I'm cold, right?

And here it is, 12+ years later, and 13 degrees below zero outside and when I finally showered and got dressed at 2 o'clock this afternoon to run to the pet store, what do you suppose I wore? Sweatpants.

Cheers to you, ma, and your cranky, old-lady ways. If she knew what I spent for my fleecie sweatpants, however, she'd most certainly have something (critical) to say about that. There is no pleasing that woman. Be warm, friends, in your jeans, as well as in your hearts.