Bring on the Sweats (Part II)

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This is Part II of the Bring on the Sweats series: How House Clothes Almost Killed Me — For Part I, click here.

So house clothes almost killed me. Well, more like I almost died* while wearing/lack of wearing my house clothes…

It’s Friday night and I’m starving. I have to eat before meeting up with friends or the night will end badly. I consider cooking but don’t want to wait for chicken to defrost so I opt to get food delivered instead. Delivery in NY is pretty quick and painless. Everything is done online; all you have to do is browse, click, and open the door. I play on the internet until my doorman calls to let me know that the delivery man is headed towards my apartment. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! I’m not wearing any pants!”

I quickly get off the couch and put on pants (my grey sweats… you know the pair). I walk towards the front door then, BAM. I pass out out of nowhere. I wake up on the floor of my foyer, fully dressed but disheveled. I’m not sure how long I had been lying there but shortly after I come to my senses, the delivery man rings the doorbell. It turns out that I only blacked out for a couple of seconds. My blood sugar was low and I got up too quickly to put on pants and get to the door.

After the shock of falling on my face wore off, I ate dinner and lounged around until it was time to get ready to go out (I may or may not have started bawling in between). Now most of you don’t know me but in the not-so-distant past, I was the queen of going out. I’ve done boozy brunch (with bottle service) til 5 pm, only to go out again for dinner and drinks at 8 pm and come home after eating breakfast around 5 am. But that single girl is long gone.

Nowadays, if I have tentative plans, by the time 9:30 pm rolls around, a very strong wave of laziness washes over me. On the night I almost died*, the laziness was also met with a lot of pain, ugly scratches and bruising. I obviously didn’t make it out that night, but even on any other night, it’s become a nearly impossible task to take the single girl out of her house clothes. The most common excuse for not getting dressed is, “Ugh, but I’m so comfortable right now!” For the same reason why I put on the house clothes after work, why would I want to take them off?

My girls and I have spoken about this phenomenon ad nauseum and after much scientific testing, we’ve concluded that house clothes are to be blamed for about 70.3% of the time we don’t go out on the weekends. I look at it like this; once you pull a new umbrella out of it’s casing, it’s nearly impossible to stuff it back in. The same goes for me and nice (i.e. tight, fitted) clothing–once I shimmy out of a pencil skirt, why would I want to stuff myself back into a bandage dress? It’s just that much harder…

Or am I just too lazy for my own good?

*May be exaggerating a tiny bit.


Bring on the Sweats (Part I)

I’m a pretty low maintenance girl. I don’t have a skin care regime, rarely wear makeup and frequently forget to wash my face at night. Call it youthful ignorance, but I ain’t got time for all that. Despite this, when it comes down to it, I still love getting done up. Now, it doesn’t happen too frequently, but even I enjoy putting on a full face of makeup and fuck me heels once in a while–but that story’s for another time. Today, I’m going to talk about my everyday, after work look.

I work in a fairly formal office and my outfits usually consist of pencil skirts, slacks and blouses. While the clothes aren’t that bad, it’s still not something I would choose to wear outside of work, and most definitely not at home. From a very young age, the clothes I wore to school and work were different from what I wore at home. I grew up, and still do look forward to house clothes time. I mean, what’s more freeing than shimmying out of a form fitting pencil skirt and into a soft, baggy oversized pair of pants?

Now, what are house clothes you ask? Well, it’s different for every girl. For me, it’s a pair of men’s sweatpants and a random XL shirt I acquired for free. For some of my friends, it’s going pantless, braless and putting on a worn in, oversized sleep shirt. It doesn’t matter what you end up wearing, but we single girls know that once the house clothes come on, there’s no turning back.

My House Clothes

My House Clothes

I’ll be honest. It’s not the prettiest of sights–but you best believe I’m loving it. When in my house clothes, it’s a judgement free zone. I can open that pint of ice cream and binge on reality TV with no shame. That is, until someone comes to the door; then immediately I regret my decision. This can be a delivery man (because you definitely aren’t going out looking like this), your maintenance guy, or a friend, but regardless of who it is you need to think and move quickly. For those of you who choose to stay pantless, you scramble around looking for pants. As for me, I hide behind the door because I realize I don’t have enough time to look “normal.”

House clothes are acceptable because they aren’t permanent. Once you wake up the next morning, you slip out of your 10 year old dingy pajama set and into your sleek pencil skirt with heels, ready to face the world… but what happens when you need to face the world only hours after changing into the comfort of jersey cotton and fleece? It’s a frequent dilemma of mine and it usually happens around 9:30 pm on a Friday night. What do I do? I’ll tell you in Part II.