You know what I’m talking about, right? For instance, the way your husband thinks your rump will look in a thong (fantasy) versus the fact that you know your rear end is going to swallow that mother faster than you can say howdy (reality)…..Or the way you’ve convinced yourself that Spanx are awesome (fantasy), and that various bits of your body won’t look like sausage spilling out of its casing (reality). Just for instance.

This became painfully apparent to me the winter I became completely obsessed with owning a pair of one piece fleece footed pajamas.

To be fair, it’s my 4 year old’s fault. He was romping around in them all winter long (well actually still is, it’s mid May in Ohio and….surprise!!! It’s still getting down in the 30’s during the night) and I had started to create this utopian fantasy about how mind blowingly amazing these one piece pajamas must be. I mean, I own a Snuggie, but think of all the bold new possibilities these pajamas could provide me with. No longer would I be tethered to the confines of the Snuggie….oh no friends. I could have the warmth of the Snuggie with the added bonus of complete mobility.

So I was yapping on all winter long about my complete want…no, make that need, of said fleece pajamas and truth be told as time went by, I was starting to become a little jealous of my youngest offspring.  Fortunately, on Christmas morning….poof!!! they magically appeared under the tree. It was a Christmas miracle…either that, or someone wanted me to stop talking about fleece pajamas. Either way, they were mine.

After my initial squeal of delight, the next logical move was to go try those bad boys on and to commence to lounging about. Little did I know that my fantasy was about to come to an end.

Allow me to mention again, this elaborate fantasy about the jammies…the warmth, the comfort, the mobility….the traction. I envisioned myself, snug as a bug in a rug, laying on the couch, sipping hot tea and reading a book, or lying in bed, writing and then? Well of course a nice afternoon nap would be in order. Mmmm, sounds cozy, doesn’t it?

I excused myself to try on my new Comfort Fleece 3000 and as I’m pulling them up I notice they seem a bit snug…hmmm. No matter. I continue to pull them up and they are….uh….fitted. I get them zipped up to the bottom of my bra and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Tight. All I can say is tight. Not slang for like “awesome” but like really tight.

Just how tight, you ask? Dear reader I am glad you inquired about the fit of said garment. All I can say is this.  If they sold fleece in a can and you had sprayed it on my body, that would be a good starting point. Or the one piece thing a ma-jobbies speed skaters wear? Yeah, that tight.

There is something completely wrong about clothing so fitted that it actually makes you feel more aware of your body than if you would happen to be completely naked.

The major design flaw (except for, after further reflection reaching the conclusion that perhaps adults should not wear one piece footed fleece pajamas) was that they basically took a pair of jammies for a 4 year old and just increased them in length. The width and girth? Not so much. Sadly, the fine folks at the Malaysian sweatshop did not account for my extra lady bits. The zipper had caused some “push-up” action (designers at Wonderbra, take note!) and the rear? Well….all I can say is that my Kardashian-esque, honky tonk badonk a donk is clearly not made for a unitard of any sort. Fleece or otherwise.

What is one to do at this point? I glanced back at the mirror and immediately decide that I look like Cat Woman….that is, if I had tried to recreate a Cat Woman costume for Halloween but all I had was a one piece fleece with kissy lips all over it. That and I don’t happen to look like Halle Berry. Yep. Nailed it.

I began laughing to the point of crying, tears streaming down my face…..

I push open the door, stare intently in to the eyes of my gift giver (which, consequently were big as saucers) and confidently proclaim…”mee-yowww….” while making a clawing action with my hand.

After laughing hysterically (the best gift of all, by the way) I concede to the fact that perhaps children’s pajamas do not translate well on to a woman’s body.

So, the jammies aren’t getting utilized the way I had imagined. But if I ever decide to start fighting crime, become a cat burglar, a speed skater, or have a hankering to recreate that “slither all sexy underneath those laser beams” scene from that Catherine Zeta Jones movie I can’t remember the name of, I’ll be awfully warm.

Sadly friends, there are no pictures. I have a blog to make fun of myself. I have no desire to be featured on Awkward Family Photos (fantasy).

In the meantime, I’ve decided it might be best to stick to my Wonder Woman Snuggie (reality).

Peace, love and blessings to all….