Jammie Love

I have an unnatural love of pajamas. Maybe it's my former (I'm proud to say) bad habit if wearing them until early afternoon, but I rather think that only cemented an affair that already existed. I have an entire drawer full of pajamas, and it's not one of the little drawers but one of the three large drawers of my dresser. I counted, and there are currently ten pajama variations in that drawer at this very moment. Some of them have more than one top, so I can choose according to temperature or mood. Some are short nightgowns. I own only one long nightgown because I hate the way I get wrapped like a tight burrito from all the rolling around I do in my sleep.

The long nightgown hangs on the back of my door with a few others (probably three at the moment) and a matching robe. They are both very simple, beautiful, antique white silk. Something I bought for myself last time I successfully lost thirty pounds. Even thirty pounds heavier, I feel pampered in luxury the few times I still put them on. I used to wear them a lot when John played out with the band. It was my special indulgence. Plus wearing them while he was home always drew his attention whether I wanted it or not. I just need a martini and some high heel slippers, and I'd be one of those glamorous Hollywood Divas, just fifty pounds heavier. OK, maybe seventy pounds.

In addition to the stuff in my drawer and on my door, there are at least a couple pajamas in the laundry and some in the winter clothing box, since thermal and flannel aren't so great in the summer. My very favorite flying pig PJs are amongst the winter jammies. I have often been known to say the old standard "when pigs fly" with my own added twist "out my ass" or "butt" when children are present, which makes flying pigs all over my pajama pants kind of funny. At least to me. I spotted those while walking through Sears one day and had to have both the flannels and the thermals. They were practically made for me. How could I resist?

Really I have a hard time resisting pajamas at all, which is why I tend to avoid that section in stores, and I know exactly where that section is in all the local places. Even when I don't buy anything, I've been known to spend uncounted minutes in the jammie section, much to the chagrin of my family. If I find some PJs I really love but know I shouldn't be buying, I obsess about the, talk about them, and point them out every time we visit the store that carries them. On a couple of occasions, John makes me buy the beloved jammies just to shut me up and to keep me from revisiting them and possibly finding a new love in addition.

My biggest excuse for buying pajamas comes not from something with which to tempt my husband but from something to wear on vacations in front of others. Every single beach vacation(there were six) warranted a new jammie purchase. A couple years I had good reason. From the first to the second year, the strap broke. From last year to this year, the pants shrunk and nothing else matched the lime green top. I couldn't wear the ones from two years ago, even though I was perfectly fine wearing them at home. Plus there was the cutest checked short set in my newest, favorite color of aqua at Victoria's Secret*. I've gotten much use of them too, so it was money well spent.

Honestly, most of my jammie purchases don't go to waste. I either wear them to their very deaths or wear them in phases. I go through times where I want to feel pretty and wear the silks and satins. Other times I want to feel comfy, so out come the knits. Cold merits long sleeves, flannels, and thermals. Hot gets spaghetti straps, shorts, and babydolls. My oldest jammies were bought for their convenient button-down front when I was expecting to nurse my first baby. My newest came home in May. And yes, I have my eye on a few more already. We'll see how long I can hold out. My favorites change. You could say my favorite is the one I don't have yet.

Funny thing� I'm not a big sleeper. I'm more a crazy insomniac, but at least I'm well-outfitted when I should be sleeping.

You know I'm absolutely crazy when it comes to pajamas when I write so much about such a stupid subject. Man, I'm boring and such a vile consumer. Next I'll be describing all my shoes. I really do have more substance, and I don't mean how fat I am.

*You wouldn't believe the number of catalogues I get from them. I think the most in one week was five. It's like sending a liquor catalogue to an alcoholic.