The Traveling Pants Exist

And I found them at my Goodwill last weekend. $4.50 of denim perfection. Perfect length, perfect rise, perfect flare. . . I do not have enough good things to say about these wondrous pants. But we'll never know if they fit you, because I am not sending these babies on. I always make the mistake of buying pants within six months of the time I have had a baby and I nearly ALWAYS regret it. My last pair of jeans is especially heinous, though I tried on probably 20 pairs before buying them.


But these pants spoke to me. Really.


I picked them up on a whim thinking, "If I get them home and they don't fit, there is a seven day return policy." But all the while I was fingering the blue goodness and willing them to be the magic fit. I got home and tried them on within about three minutes. The mantra was going in my head, "Pleasefitpleasefitpleasefit. . . " over and over and then. . . . oh, is there anything more sublime than trying on clothes that are perfect? Clothes that whisper lovingly to your curves, "Yes . . . THIS is who you are."


Unfortunately, my magic pants will not go to Greece this year, or soccer camp in Mexico or anywhere else interesting, but we'll see. A girl can't help but feel lucky in such incredible pants.

Nemesis is guest blogging this week for a friend on her honeymoon. As only Nem can, of course, she has made everything hilarious. The fuzzy black slippers to the temple bit was my favorite. Because, of course, on a day as wonderful as a best friend's temple wedding, you don't expect to see something quite so. . . . incongruous. She asked if anybody had any interesting clothing stories to tell and my comment was too long, so the second half of this post is a reply.

Some years ago, a good friend of mine got married in the L**** temple. It is a nice temple to be married in because if you pick your time just right (in other words, not the day after a semester ends or during spring break), there aren't a lot of weddings there and you get a lot of personal attention, including a bride's room all to yourself. Besides, the temple is beautiful and historic and all that jazz. Anyway, my friend Pammy was about 29 when she got married. Her husband was a few years younger, but both had been endowed for several years and really knew what they were getting into . The ceremony, done by Elder Featherstone, was touching and really special. The maturity of the couple was evident and you just knew they had waited a long time for the right thing.

While we waited for the resplendent and buxom Pammy to come out of the temple, a very flamboyant couple came out. The bride was probably a size 2 and looked about 15. The lucky groom was somewhat older and already a little light in the hairline. Without even so much as a how-do-you-do to her family, she beelined for a herd of giggling bridesmaids and flirting groomsman, all totally decked out in reception wear. I've never seen such weird dresses.

First of all they were red. Mind-numbing, bright beyond all reason red. The dresses trailed all the way to the wrist and ankle, but were nearly off the shoulder. There were ten of them. The waists were really tightly fitted, but the sleeves flared out in large points like wings or . . . I don't know, like a medieval sorceress. I realized that said teenager-bride's dress was exactly the same style, though pulled up slightly higher on her shoulders. The groomsmen were fully outfitted with vest, red cravats, and the works.

This isn't even the worst part. At their best, bridesmaid dresses are generally ugly. So, while her taste isn't fabulous, what do you expect if your colors are red and . . . well, red?

The worst part is that she and the gaggle of demons proceded to pose all over the temple grounds. And.I. Mean.Pose. The girls' preferred look seemed to be Charlie's Angels classic pose wtih the hands shaped like guns and everything.

There was another pose where the girl's stood with their arms stretched straight out at their sides in a V-formation, bride-girl at the front. It was slightly breezy that day so the sleeves flared out slightly behind them. Like a flock of seagulls. (Not the band; their hair actually looked quite nice.) This went on for a long time. My friend came out got her pictures, all the while dodging this group, and was finished before they were done. Her older family members seemed to be a slight state of shock.

I know, I'm sure some charitable person is going to comment, "Well, STM, would you rather they weren't married in the temple at all?" OF COURSE NOT. I just wish somebody older and wiser, if not able to influence her unfortunate fashion choice, could have at least told her what was and was (absolutely) NOT appropriate at the temple. I've wondered about that girl from time to time. If her marriage worked out. If she understands better now (as I hope we all do) the nature of the covenants made that day. If she cringes when she looks at those pictures. If she still has her sense of humor without a sense of diva thrown in. . . .

The world will never know.

Because this post has been a series of barely related items, isn't the baby cute? And of course our jack-o-lantern is a pirate.