It's Getting Hot in Here

I went through a phase where I refused to wear pants. All though it probably sounds like it, I was not 6 when this phase occurred. I was 23-27. 4 solid years, I owned maybe 2 pairs of pants, and those were for necessity.  My mom insisted it was abnormal not to own pants. My boyfriend at the time (now-husband) was completely weirded out the first time he saw me in jeans.

I just had a love affair with the girliness of skirts and dresses.  I felt more grown-up, prettier, more feminine, sexier, and let's be honest--it was so much easier to get ready for work when all I had to do was slip on a Banana Republic wrap dress.

Slowly but surely, as my calves got heftier, and as my never-ending need to look girlie died down and was replaced by blazers and slacks, my closet became a safer haven for all pants alike.  I hadn't even worn a dress to my new job, and it'd been almost 2 months.

I broke free last week.  It was 900 degrees out (that is a scientific number. It was 900 degrees, I swear it. And anyone who tells you it was just a really humid 97 is a liar).  I had already shaved my legs for a pedicure.  Dress--on. 

It felt like I'd been on a carb-free diet for two years and had decided to allow myself a piece of the most wonderful cake ever. Comfy, put together, and pretty. 

So now I'm back on a dress-buying binge (way healthier than Swedish Fish and Doritos).

This is next on my "to-buy" list (like a "to-do" list, but less productive and way more fun).