pants: a new kind of victory

I used to, you know, do some pretty cool stuff.

Believe it or not, once upon a time, I actually had the balls to ditch North America for a while and shack up in France. It ended up being the most incredible experience of my life, and some days, I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if I’d stayed.

I learned a hell of a lot about myself that year (mostly that I could never, ever be a teacher), forgot picked up a new language, and saw nearly all of western Europe. Spending a year overseas was easily the best decision I’ve ever made, and one time I decided to make spaghetti and then bake it into a loaf of bread.

Picture 118

These French kids are probably all married now. I’m still not.


Clearly a fashion icon in Milan.

Clearly a fashion icon in Milan.


Pretending I know the first thing about art in Barcelona, Spain.

Pretending I know the first thing about art in Barcelona, Spain.


Stunned in the streets of Monaco.

Stunned in the streets of Monaco.

Alas, my carefree globetrotting days are behind me. So is all much of that juicy early-20s freedom. And those early-20s victories.

I’m not exploring the planet or learning a new language anymore. I’m not taking on a classroom full of French five-year-olds who I basically have to perform an elaborate mime to to get them to understand me.

My victories are a little different these days. Today’s accomplishments include going to bed early, not eating Nutella straight out of the jar with a spoon, keeping a little boy alive and working towards some semblance of a career.

But this morning — I added another one to that list.

Pants.

Don't you hate pants?

Don’t you hate pants?

In early 2006, I bought a pair of white Capri pants in a small town just north of Paris, and I still have them to this day. They were always a little too big until I quit breastfeeding and began treating my body like a 24 hour-a-day garbage disposal.

Lately, however, I’ve been working really hard to transform my marshmallow-esque figure back into something that somewhat resembles a human female. It’s been slow and it’s been hard, but this morning, it finally felt worth it.

My France Pants fit again.

Now where’s the cake?

I think it's back here behind the liquid cucumber, Ma.

I think it’s back here behind the liquid cucumber, Ma.