Honestly, are Pants a Necessity?

As I quickly threw together an outfit for my daughter this morning, I was greeted by the usual "No jeans!" request demand. Ever single morning of the past two-ish years P has been on jean strike. Not like grab a sign, stomp your feet and chant. I'm talking Cold War level of negotiations with a possible nuclear strike if the issue is pushed too far. There was even a day I tested this theory and made her wear jeans to prove a point that they're really not that bad. When she got home from school, I found them in the trash instead of the laundry hamper. Touché.  

She lives in spandex. But no pants at all is even better because: No pants party. EVERYDAY. Obviously. It's gone so far that even jeggings, the gift from heaven that they are, aren't acceptable if they have a button. What the fuck?! I regularly wear jeggings because A) They look like actual pants B) They still fit after lunch C) Thunder thighs loooove them. 

Today we made a deal: Mommy would wear real dress pants to work if P wore some damn jeans! I sweetened the deal with a sparkly belt and shipped her off to Grandma's house for the snow day with one rule: No pants parties are NOT happening today!

So problem solved! I can survive one day in real pants... Or so I thought.  Approximately one hour into sitting at my desk, I realized that I did a magic trick since the last time I wore these pants that involved eating food and watching the thunder thighs expand.  The stretching seams looked like angry, little fat thigh judging faces.

About 2 hours in I caved and bought some black yogas. I'd apologize for breaking my deal, but I'm sure P is currently wandering around pant-less & sock-less with a tub of ice cream and a spoon at Grandma's! 

I'm quite comfy in my elasticized embrace hoping that no one notices that these are athletic pants until 5pm.  Moral of the story: Some times the kids are right. Don't ever tell them that though! Lycra rules the world. Or at least my in house.