Red Leather Pants

I own red leather pants. They are really sexy, and would have been really expensive, as in a-comma-in-the-price-tag-expensive, save that I found them at Filene’s Basement in Boston.It turns out that the body to wear red leather pants and the purse strings to buy them are rarely found together.

They haven’t fit for years. I think I wore them twice.

I’m thinking I should try them on and if they don’t fit now, after nursing twins, just accept that they will NEVER FIT AGAIN and unload them on ebay.

It’s been a rough couple of days. Someone described raising twins as “slamming yourself against the unmeetable demands of each day.” The kids are teething, I’m tired, it’s frigid outside. B. has to fly to Florida for a work thing next week and I find myself jealous of him. It’s sick to be jealous of having to fly to Florida on a business trip, it’s not like it will be fun. And yet. And yet. Housebound and overwhelmed, I’m feeling like I have nothing. There is nothing in my life outside of mothering. And that’s hard. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more chipper about this.

Stumble it!

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