Sweatpants and high heels.  My dream outfit.  I adore heels.  Even when my feet are blistering, I’m whining mercilessly, and I don’t.think.I.can.go.on.another.step., I will survive, heels and all.  If the heels didn’t scratch my husband’s legs, and halfway through the night, puncture a shoulder (I’m a tosser-and-turner … I think I “sleep swim”), I’d sleep with my prettiest heels on.  But clothes, yuck.  At the end of a work day, I can’t get through the door fast enough before I’m stripping off dress, tights, jewelry, and bra.  I live for my sweat pants.  I can’t even start to relax before I’ve put them on.  Sweats are my superhero costume. I blog better, I cook better, I think better, in my sweats.  No one’s given me the option, but I think I’d be a better lawyer in sweatpants.  High heels would be an added bonus.  (And a potential cooking hazard.)

Image via Fash ‘n Chips