A Valentine’s Day Tribute to my Leggings (and my husband)


I hate wearing jeans. They are leg prison. They are an unnecessary form of oppression. They are stupid.

So I mostly wear leggings. Years ago, my grandma got me the world’s most comfortable leggings ever from White House Black Market. There is not a softer legging in existence, I’m sure of it. I sported those black leggings so much that I wore holes into the knees, and inevitably those once-tiny holes stretched to frisbee-sized ones. Even though they are now unacceptable to wear in public, I still wear them around the house. I’m just not ready to retire those babies.

Months and months ago I voiced my utter sadness over the dwindling leggings. My husband heard and he obviously took note…

Because today for Valentine’s Day Brad surprised me with a package from…you guessed it…White House Black Market.  


It’s truly one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received. Every time I comfortably lounge in those perfectly crafted leggings, I will thank the heavens for a thoughtful husband who, gesture upon gesture, day after day, has demonstrated his love for me in the purest yet simplest of ways.  

This post isn’t really about leggings; it’s about love. I love you, Brad. I’m one lucky jeans-shunner.

And to my new black leggings:  I promise to love you until you are stretched so thin you barely conceal my booty.