Stretchy Pants: A Love Affair

I have a new love. No, I'm not talking about my growing spawn, although I'm pretty attached to the little bugger (pun intended--yes, I like cheese in all forms, thank you very much). However, if not for the kiddo, I'd have never discovered the joy that is Stretchy Pants. Seriously, these things are so comfortable. I suppose I should have anticipated this, as nearly every mother I talked to in the early stages of pregnancy (while still happily, and stupidly, ensconced in my normal, static-waisted pants) touted their glory. I had visions of frumpy mom jeans and was thinking of every way possible to extend the utility of my existing pants wardrobe. After numerous recent instances of shooting the makeshift hair-tie-pants-fastening-extender across multiple public bathroom floors only to retrieve and begrudgingly re-affix it to my gaping fly, I have now acquired 4 pairs of pregnant lady stretchy pants. And they totally kick ass. I am thoroughly convinced that I have found cute, fashionable stretchy pants for myself. However, it is distinctly possible that, like with a favorite pair of house-lounging sweatpants, the undeniable comfort level has hampered my ability to give a fuck.