I'll be in my pants. Call if you need me.

It started harmlessly enough. We'd gone to the mall to return my anniversary gift - a beautiful green, plaid cashmere scarf. It was being returned partly because I'm the pickiest person to buy gifts for EVER, and partly because what my husband didn't know was that I'd already shot our collective gift-giving wad on seats to see Wicked. So, back it went. 

I am the ultimate online shopper. Malls, dressing rooms, make-up counters all make me feel mildly claustrophobic and I never go without a plan of attack. Before I even park the car I already know what stores I'm going to, what items I'm looking for, etc. and I rarely veer from my plan. That being said, there are times when I feel so financially and socially deprived that I just need a good browse. So, while Chris returned the scarf, Flynn and I ventured over to the Kiehl's counter where I slathered on my favorite coriander fragrance oil (heavenly) and sniffed around. Of course, the door to Nordstrom's is right by Anthropologie and I mentioned that we may want to go in and look at the paper mache ostrich. For the child. 

We made it 20 feet past the door when Flynn's double espresso kicked in and it became clear that this was going to be a quick trip. Halfway through accessories he announced, "I have to go potty really bad!" and I immediately spun around, seizing my chance, "MaybeyoucouldtakehimtothebathroomwhileIlookaroundreallyreallyquick? Thenbythetimeyou'rebackIpromiseI'llbedone????" Then, before he could answer, I did what any good wife would do; I threw a bar of persimmon soap to distract them while I dove behind a rack of tweed capes. 

Once they were gone I breathed a sigh of relief and mentally calculated how much time I had to peruse. This is a highly mathematical formula determined by store proximity to bathroom, day of week, time of day, weather and what crazy outfit Flynn had insisted on wearing. I figured I had about 7 minutes. I made it through housewares, body care and the sale racks before they returned. I couldn't help but note that it had only been 6 minutes and 32 seconds and vowed that from that point on, whenever the three of us were shopping together the boy would be wearing overalls and a belt. Maybe tights, too. 

As we started to walk out I just happened to look to my right and there they were, on an eye-level rack, hanging discreetly among some seamless camisoles: the harem pants. I fingered the fabric, a soft, lush cotton the color of dusty grayish lavendar. Neutral, yet not bland. It seemed so familiar because it was the same color that was presiding over half my wardrobe. Hmmm. I dared to sneak a peek at the size label as Flynn shoved Chris toward something sharp and breakable. Large. Yes, large. Perfect! Yes, I'm 5'2" but they could grow with me! They were lounge pants. I love to lounge! They were on a hanger. I love hangers! I was already committed before I even saw the price tag...$9.95!??! Marked down from $68.00?!! I snatched them away like a fiend and announced to Chris and everyone else within earshot, "I'm buying these. Even if they weren't $9.95 I would still buy them. They are perfect." Chris gave me a puzzled look and followed Flynn to some nude art books. 

I practiced my argument as I marched to the counter, "But the tag says $9.95! I'm sorry if someone made a mistake but that's not my fault. I feel like you should honor what the tag says. Especially for a pregnant person who so obviously can't live without these pants." Luckily, no such argument came. As I paid, the sales girl merely muttered, "Wow. That's a really good deal." I stared at her with my most intent Vulcan mind penetrating gaze and said firmly, "Yes. It is. And I will enjoy them. Thoroughly."

Although I put my new harem pants on later that night, I didn't really have time to fully consider them until the next morning when we were getting ready to go out. "So," Chris asked, "How do you like your new pants?" I gently folded them, sighed, and said, "They're wonderful. Seriously. Every once in a while, something like this comes along that just changes everything. There are things, like these pants, that are just...well, life changing."  My husband, Master of the Poker Face, looked up and said, "Really? What are some others?" Of course, products like these have such an impact that you instantly force yourself to forget "The Before Time" when they didn't exist. I didn't think that was a sufficient answer so I thought for a moment before saying, "Ummm...I would say my iPod. And, probably my eyelash curler? Vapor balm." I pretended I heard someone calling me and scurried from the room, letting the topic drop. 

Since that day, I have found myself turning more and more to my pants in times of joy, times of need. See, since they weigh about 3 pounds due to all the fabric, you're very aware that you have them on. Although they are balloon-like through the thighs and knees, they're gathered and fitted in the ankles, kind of like leg warmers. The "waist" is what's called, in the maternity clothing world, a "full panel", meaning that you can roll it down or all the way over your stomach. For someone my height, a size large can actually be pulled ALL the way up, like a tube top. I told you, a great investment. When I roll them down they accentuate my growing stomach and when I pull them up and over they provide warmth and security. Unfortunately, wearing them this way gives a very unattractive appearance similar to that of a sad clown in a velvet painting or Archie Bunker. I've heard this referred to as a "gunt" in more crass circles. Either way, it's incredibly comfortable. I sometimes drive home faster to change into them and on Tuesdays, my first work day of the week, I'm extra moody as I take them off to put on my other clothes, which then feel confining, scratchy and generally shitty. Last week while cooking bacon a dot of grease splattered out of the pan and I found myself jumping backwards, muttering, "that was a close call. Too close," because I had them on. 

I've since realized that these pants are a huge part of my life at the moment. I know it seems silly but they really do make me happy. I feel certain that when the time comes to give birth, I will pull them on and head off to the hospital. Then, after Baby Minty is born and we prepare to come home, I will pull them on again, folding part of the waist over my recently returned six-pack abs. I'll then use the extra yard or so of fabric still available at the top to fashion a soft, snug sling for my baby. I will preserve them over the years, and when this baby one day heads off to college I will tearfully present it with a beautiful queen size duvet made from "the pants I brought you home in." 

All for $9.95.