Pajamas! ‘O’ how I love them!
Maybe it’s the memory of wearing them as a child or simply that they mean utter comfort and warmth on a cold Winters night.
Either way they are soft, cuddly perfection.
Sexy you ask?
Maybe not, but it’s the girl inside that makes the pajamas, no?
Did I mention the socks?
At the moment my choice is a pair of thick woolen beasts that are simply divine.
For as long as I can remember I have received a new pair of pj’s every Christmas Eve.
And, even now at the age of … well I think I’ll keep that part to myself… I am still blessed with this gift.
Last years goodies – blue and white fleece penguin and polar bear riddled pants and a top.
Looking at them elicits two things:
First: Hysterical laughter
Secondly: The need for air conditioning
But I keep them. And now and again, when I am all alone on a very chilly evening, I will don them.
Strangely though, I find myself bottomless somewhere in the middle of the night (apparently even the sleepy me knows when to prevent heat stroke).
It’s funny, I truly despise pajamaish (my word of course) nightgowns. Please, no little house on the prairie gear for this girl.
And, just so you don’t think I’m not sophisticated, I happen to own several pair of lovely satin ones as well.
But again, the bottoms usually end up discarded in the wee hours (just as a side note: Never ever sleep on satin sheets with satin pajamas. The result is painfully catastrophic (think sliding off said sheets. But I digress…).
So, let’s give a hearty and grateful round of applause for jammies. A tired girls best friend!