Leggings

From age 6 to age 12, I wore leggings. Black, burgundy, stirrups or no, topped with a too-big t-shirt.

I remember waiting in line to leave the cafeteria once, when a boy in my class asked me (not unkindly), "How come you never wear jeans?"

Jeans were stiff and uncomfortable, too hard to unbutton. Leggings hugged me, moved with me, a soft safe feeling.

Yesterday, I wore leggings for the first time since sixth grade. I was going to a wedding and wanted to show off a dress I got this summer, but the 30 degree weather demanded additional fabric. Leggings were the answer.

I had some vague recollection that leggings were back in style, though my fashion sense is limited to my not-so-savvy observation skills and the accidental glance at Sunday ads for Kohls and Kmart.

So I hopped over to the mall and hit up TJ Maxx. Six bucks. 96% spandex.

Putting them on was like a blast from the past, an "aha" moment as I reunited with a former life, my younger self. No wonder I loved leggings so much. The sensory feedback--the pressure--is calming. They are like a second skin. Nothing like the flimsy itchiness of nylons. If it were socially acceptable to wear one of those full-body leotards--a whole suit of the stretchy stuff--I would.