The Divorce Pants <3
Just like the divorce sausage. You know it? BBHUGME is its actual name. One of you called it the divorce sausage on instagram – for us, I think it’s more along the lines of a lover or a third wheel, as we’ve almost been fighting over who gets to sleep with it. It’s a looong pillow covered in stretchy fabric (which fades in a delightful way in sunlight, hmm…), full of small polystyrene balls. Genius as rebound when you miss someone to sleep with post-breakup. Genius as neck support for Netflix scenarios. Genius as stuffing in the crack in the middle of the bed. AND genius as pregnancy belly-night-support / breastfeeding pillow (the latter is not my recommendation; just something I read). You know, one of the best things in life is hugging your duvet, right? This feeling of something between your legs (ahem!), and something a bit under your head. This pillow was made for that. Someone actually succeeded in making money from what all of us have always automatically done; hugging duvets by moulding it into a special cushion. Clever. And I slept with it as a support between my knees (and breasts, when they were at their heaviest, I couldn’t handle the way in which gravity stacked them on top of each other, haha!). One day Adam said, ‘when you’re done being pregnant, we need to have a conversation about who gets to sleep with the sausage.’ It’s delicious. You easily end up as the third wheel when that thing is in the bed, hence; the divorce sausage.
ANYHOW! This is the divorce pants, haha! I LOVE them; mum jeans, ’80s-pants, but I still remember when a colleague at the radio station one day exclaimed; ‘SHIT, those butt cheeks are long!’ He was referring to mine. They’re not downright flattering, the pants, but then – my butt really doesn’t have to look sexy ALL of the time (in a way it sounds pretty conceited that I just assume it is). That is, I don’t give a damn if my ass looks big and long in those pants. I somehow feel pretty chic wearing them. As if they add some cred to my otherwise very feminine wardrobe. FREE ME FROM BEING A SEX OBJECT! And let me wear my mummy pants in peace.
I do think that the name was intended to refer to the way in which they sort of hide the breastfeeding-butt, by means of just making everything a bit less defined, rather than being a homage to the fit our mums were sporting in the ’80s. Or maybe they were all wearing that model in the ’80s after having given birth to all of us, hence the need to conceal the breastfeeding-butt, and then it all makes sense. And everyone else who loves an indefinable butt – my go-to jeans-model since 2014!
And when you then happen upon a veteran car (are you guys aware that cars from (some of) our birth decade, the 1980s, now qualify as veteran cars? The limit is 30 years, OMG!), it all sort of comes together. New Balances similar to ones that were in fashion back when some people would refer to them as trotters. Mummy pants and an old Lancia. The 1980s called and said; ‘yes, please, yes, please and yes, please.’