Fancy Pants

Well it could be pants if you like, I’ve done it in the past

Even though I prefer a dress, either way I know I’ll have a blast

Fitted or flared, it’s really all about my mood

Yellow, black or blue

I don’t care, just as long as you tell me we are heading out soon!

It’s a day affair—hair and makeup—and getting it all just right

Pull, tuck, squeeze, “5 more minutes!” I yell

“I’m not ready yet, I’m committed to this look all night!”

I hear that four letter word and gitty is how I feel

I know you must be wondering ‘what is the big deal?’

Well GALA is the magic word that sends my mind into a tizzy

A chance to wear my fancy shoes

Girl, I know I’m a little prissy!

But I prefer fancy pants, it’s just who I am

It will never hurt my feelings

Because being who I truly am

Is the only way to begin real healing

I’ll admit. I’m a sucker for that word. A soccer gala for my son inspired this poem. Ya sure, I love being in my pajamas under a blanket watching reality television like the rest of you. However, every once and awhile I love the pomp and circumstance. The heels, the dressing up and dashing out for a few hours. It’s my happy place—my soul’s desire. Pretending that pile of laundry couldn’t possibly belong on my to-do list. No matter my age, for this one night I, my dear, I get to be a through and through…

Fancy Pants!