Husband and I were traveling the other day, so I thought I'd be smart and wear sweatpants. Comfy, right? Everything was going well, we were jamming out to the radio, shoes were off, feet tucked under on the passenger side. I was riding high. Then the unthinkable happened. We made a stop.

We decided to do a bit of shopping since we were around stores we normally don't get to. The first store, it was fine. I walked around like I meant to dress like a slob. Head held high, slipper-shoes falling off since I wasn't watching them.

The second store, I was a bit more embarrassed. It was higher-end, and here I was looking like I had just rolled out of bed and into the dirty clothes pile lying next to my bed. Still, I walked around like I meant to do so and avoided any mirrors.

By the third store, I almost didn't go in. I told my husband I just wanted to sit in the car and read-it wasn't necessary for me to hold him back from shopping. All lies. I was just mortified.

To make matters worse, I had conditioned my hair. It was heavy, clean but greasy-looking, and I couldn't do a thing about it. I shuffled around the store like a homeless person, trailing my husband as he shopped, praying he would be quick and I wouldn't see anyone I knew.

It was one of the worst outings I have ever had, and it was completely my own fault. I had nice sweatpants (Victoria's Secret ones are nice, right?) but I still felt like everyone was judging my lack of shape. I was like a frumpy mess of a person who didn't understand the basics of fashion.

Never. Again.

Funny thing, tho. I went to Wal-Mart recently and wore sweatpants, and felt completely at home. Hm.