Present Over Perfect

leggings—the same ones I’d wear if we went for a walk.
And a T-shirt—the same one I’d wear if we went for a walk.
Emily put on crisp striped cotton pajamas, a matching top
and bottom. And I coveted them.
I’d just read Arianna Huffington’s fantastic book Thrive,
and she makes a point that we should all wear pajamas, and
that the epidemic of wearing workout clothes to bed
(especially women) has to end. Our bodies listen to what we
put on them, she says. So when it’s time to rest, tell your
body it’s time to rest by putting on your pajamas—clothes
specifically made for private spaces, for quiet, for sleep.
Don’t confuse your body by dressing it the same way you
would to go to the gym, or to coffee.
After we returned from London, I bought my first real
pair of pajamas in years: navy cotton with red piping, like
an old man—an old English man, maybe. I adored them.
I’ve got polka-dotted flannel ones now, too, for winter, and
a light-blue set with my monogram on the pocket. I have
absolutely, fully converted to pajamas, because after a
lifetime of sleeping first in jeans and a full face of makeup,
then yoga pants and a hoodie, I’m finally learning to rest my
body and my mind in loving, peaceful ways. I’m learning
that it matters. I used to put pajamas and night cream in the
same fussy-fancy category as, you know, self-care.
But all my force and pushing brought me to the end of
myself quite dramatically; brought me to poor health,
isolation, exhaustion, resentment. So here I am, self-care,
pajamas, night cream, all of it.