Pajamas at Walmart

I live in the Midwest. My neighbors are horses and cows. Walmart is the closest thing to Big City as it gets around here. I take that back, there is a Cato clothing store that is kind of a classy place to buy ladies clothing and shoes.

People in my town like to be comfortable. I think most people who work hard and have too little time prioritize comfort pretty high on the list. I do not wear pajamas to Walmart. Not because I find it inappropriate or unfashionable, but because I am very tall and pajamas are always too high over the ankles for me. While most people look cuddly and cute in their fuzzy flannel Jammie pants, they make me look slightly homeless with a borderline mental illness.

I find children piled in a cart, half asleep while a tired Momma shops late at night in their pajamas endearing. I once ran into an elderly man who was drunk in his dressing gown holding a jar of green olives late one night. He wanted to dance with me. It was 2AM and seemed appropriate at the time.

For years I tried to resist the urge to wear lounge wear. I thought that I had some unspoken agreement with society that I would always dress in proper dress attire. It was a little unnerving that nobody else seemed to adhere to the unspoken contract anymore. I am at a crossroads. Succumb to the casual comfort of sweat pants or make the time consuming effort of dressing. Oh, the temptation to stay in my still warm pajamas on a cold day...

My husband is a very tidy and stylish man. He has upheld his end of the agreement with refined society. He is the reason I fight the urge to roll myself up in shapeless sweat shirts and pajama pants to the restaurant. I do this partly because I like him to think I am pretty and partly to mark my territory. I dress to act as a warning to any  hunting females sniffing around my attractive husband that he already has a domestic goddess on his altar. No others need apply.

This is not fear dressing. I am merely wearing the uniform that delineates my position. I am fashionably scent marking my territory. I'm not afraid, this is just my job. You expect the guy in chage to wear a suit and his underlings to wear khaki pants and polo shirts. You expect the doctor to wear a lab coat and the patients to wear gowns.It just makes it easier for everybody.

This Winter I saw an entire family stroll into Walmart wearing Snuggies; all of them, Mom, Dad, Grandparents and two little kids. They looked like a cult. I'm not going to lie to you. It was really cold and they probably got caught without the appropriate clothing. These were emergency Snuggies! They had mastered comfort dressing on the fly and I was impressed. Perhaps I should have Tsk, tsked at the choice of garment, but they seemed really, really relaxed and snugly. The worst feeling I could summon about it besides the envy was mild amusement.

Last night I saw a commercial for giant onesies for adults. Big fuzzy, primary colored, zippered jumper affairs that even had a zippered butt trap door for easy access when you need to toilet. After a laugh at how they made everyone look like a Telly Tubbie I found myself thinking about what color I wanted...