Well, first of all, this PARTICULAR pair of pants is what I call Hospital Pink. It’s the exact same shade as the plastic pitchers that hospitals give you for water, and the plastic bins they have, one of which we used to bathe the beans for the first time (they were only like 3 or 4 pounds at the time, so they fit in Hospital Pink tupperware). We had several of the pitchers around our house for a while, because when we left, the nurses were like, “HERE, TAKE EVERYTHING,” and I associate those things and therefore this color with a really freaky five days — and then ensuing five NICU weeks, which was FULL of Hospital Pink — in which we weren’t totally sure whether the beans were going to make it (they are fine)(and so old, you guys; they’re turning NINE in June. WHAT HAPPENED). So: Hospital Pink. I just can’t with it. That is not Natalie’s fault, but it explains one of my reservations here.
Another is: I feel like I passed through high-waisted (ish) pants with a thick trench-style belt a long time ago. The offshoot of this is when the pants/shorts also have a paper-bag waist. That’s probably en route, too. Were you around for this the first time, and are you here for it again? I will give Natalie that she’s making it look cooler than I ever did, but I’m still not sure it’s a car I’m ready to climb into again. Belts and I don’t play well together; they are SO unforgiving of Life Bloat, and Life Bloat is my Life Boat. Like, you can take my pride, but you cannot take my Diet Coke and salt snacks.
