Well, I did it. I went shopping on Black Friday.
For a new sweatshirt. And sweatpants. And tube socks. Hello gorgeous! (You'll be happy to know I got a great deal on them, and there wasn't even a line!)
Her show is awful, but her poster is right on.
Is there a better feeling in the world than brand-new sweats? They are so soft and lightweight and cozy. There is none of that nubby nonsense. It's like walking around in a semi-tailored fleece blanket.
And tube socks -- I haven't worn these since 1998 or so, and I've missed them. Growing up, I was really bummed when it became clear that tube socks were seriously uncool. I begrudgingly bought some peds, but they felt wrong. Over the years I got used to them, but when I pulled these sweet babies on today, it felt so right.
As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm a vision. Kyle is sleeping on the couch in his own new sweats and tube socks, happy as a clam.
Thanksgiving dinner was good last night -- too good. You know you have an overeating problem when you purposely stuff yoga pants and your husband's shirt into your purse on the way to a holiday meal, and then change in the middle of dinner because your tights are a little too tight.
Here's much of the Byham crew -- before I changed my outfit.
Am I too old to be wearing tights? Should I call them pantyhose, or stockings? These are the questions that keep me up at night.
Now we're laying sitting around the house, trying to digest last night's feast and today's leftovers in time for dinner. Gross and glorious at the same time.
I might even start eating salads after this weekend is over, because apparently in terms of gluttony, even I have my limits.
Norman Rockwell's "Thanksgiving: 1923 Life Cover"
Ye glutton indeed.