Well, it’s been almost completely 366 days since I last wore real pants. In just one week and a few days I’ll be able to wear jeans again. Just in time for Los Angeles to embrace winter!
The end of December usually brings up a lot of reflective feelings. Best of lists, year end lists, worst of lists, craziest, etc. This year I found myself reflecting on all the change that’s happened personally and universally. So I got around to my weird personal project. 2016, my year without pants.
It started as a joke.
It became sort of serious.
It became really serious.
And here we are, at the end of 2016 and I haven’t worn pants for an entire year. Some girls would laugh at me, having done this every year of their life since middle school. Some people will laugh, claiming this is a pretty silly use of time and talent. Some people will applaud because this sounds pretty difficult. Some people just won’t give a shit.
So when 2016 started I had accidentally been wearing leggings as pants for quite a while. I jokingly told my (now) ex-boyfriend that I should call 2016 my year without pants. Then it got real. I moved all my jeans into the corner of my closet so I couldn’t look at them. I forced myself to wear skirts I hadn’t looked at in years.
The year progressed, summer was easier. It’s relatively easy to find elastic waist shorts, and skirts are great for the heat. Summer turned into Los Angeles’ version of Autumn, which means temperatures started to go down but it was still 85 degrees during the day.
That’s when things started to get difficult. You know what’s an easy fall outfit? Jeans and a t-shirt. What’s a good going out outfit? Jeans and a cute top. You know what has fucking pockets?! JEANS! My desperation to wear jeans started to flair up again around Thanksgiving.
It’s almost the end. I can see the light. I’m excited to go back to some staple outfits. I’ve enjoyed being chill, but with the end of my job and the end of this project, I’m excited to start wearing real pants once again.