Real vs. Fake

I have reached a milestone in my life, one that many mothers go through. First grey hair? No. Send kids to private or public school? No. I am speaking, my friends of real vs. fake, pants that is.

My ‘fake’ pants are a pair of yoga pants that have never seen, and probably never will see a yoga mat. I picked up this term from my sister. I will call her to go shopping, and her response often is: ‘Well, ok, but I don’t look cute. I’m not wearing makeup or real pants’. Now that I am a stay at home mom I have the daily quandary of which to wear, real or fake. This entails a complex algorithm that includes the activities of the day. Appointments for any of Anya’s care move the decision closer to real pants. Lack of seeing anyone I do not live with move it closer to fake. I also take into consideration when I was able to achieve taking a shower, and if wearing fake pants will make me more likely to walk on the treadmill.

This has never been a problem for me before. I could never be accused of being a fashion maven. For most of my life I only wanted to be appropriately dressed. I didn’t want to stand out, actually blending in would be better. In high school my wardrobe consisted of jeans, t-shirts worn with a flannel shirt, and shit-kicker shoes. College taught me that wearing nice pants and shoes equaled more confidence when testing or giving a presentation. When I started my first non-scrub-requiring nursing job I used that lesson. We were critiqued frequently and I felt more comfortable dressing a bit better than I was expected to. Many co-workers dressed very casually in exercise clothes. I never understood how someone could be expected to be taken seriously while wearing a track suit.

So now I find myself rationalizing that I can wear fake pants every day. This was an easy decision when I was staying in the hospital with Anya recently: fake all the way. I could try to sleep comfortably without wearing pajamas, and if I had to meet with any doctors I would still be wearing clothes. Right before she went into the hospital I had bought a bunch of active wear shirts to go with my fake pants, so I felt cute. Cuteness was reinforced when two young men tried to hit on me when I was doing some Christmas shopping at the Galleria. Usually this would have embarrassed me terribly. That day, covered in hospital funk it made my week.

I have had a pair of pants hanging up in my closet for about a year. I have never worn them out. They are a great color and length; they don’t cling to my thighs, the perfect pants. They were marketed as, and sold, as dress pants. The problem is they don’t have a zipper or button; they are slip on pants. They feel exactly like fake pants. I should wear them all the time. The problem is they make me feel like I am wearing fake pants, so wearing them out to dinner or to church just feels wrong. I watch people wearing dresses and tennis shoes together and wonder why I care so much.

I wore fake pants down on Main Street  St. Charles one Saturday evening for Christmas Traditions, I rationalized that I was walking so fake pants were appropriate. (Yes, I usually wear real pants when shopping) I was very confused when I mentioned the fake pants I was wearing, and my cousin commented he thought they were dress pants. He owns and runs a successful boutique on Main St that sells women’s fashions, so he should know.

Maybe he should start making and selling women’s fake dress pants for all occasions. I could be a consultant! Until then I guess I am stuck with my daily algorithm… real or fake?