Yoga Pants: Stop Hating! Fashion’s Love Letter To Lymies….

Ok, so this post is going to be a little tongue and cheek; since chronic illness is such serious business let’s laugh a little while taking a totally honest and truthful look at the oft laughed at yoga pant and legging trend.

Ready? 

Ahh yoga pants; we love and hate you. Your wonderful, stretchy, giving, comfy, form-fitting cotton-spandex (or whatever) blend. Yes you can be brutal. You hide nothing and display our muffin tops, jelly rolls, donuts, jello thighs and all the rest of the glorious imperfections of our bodies for the world to see (and to turn from in horror!). You are not for everyone that is for sure and you leave imprints on our brains of those that just “shouldn’t” wear you that can’t be erased; like a sudden bright light at the back of our retinas.

And yet, to we the invisible illness sufferers, the chronically ill, you, our yoga pants and your cousin the leggings, are our best friends.

You never cut into our tender skin that is always in pain.

You don’t dig into our flesh with your unforgiving seams when our bodies swell and bloat. When we change sizes (sometimes within a few hours) due to our inflammation, you change with us rather than punishing us.

You don’t remind us by not fitting when our inflammation goes haywire and we can’t get into any of our clothes.

And did I mention you are comfortable and adaptable? We can go from lying on the couch with you being all casual and lazy, to putting on a nice long top or little dress right over you and be ready to go out the door. You dress up and you dress down with a cute pair of boots and a pea coat. 

You are also a great friend during doctor visits; because when things get invasive you hug us tightly but aren’t so bulky that you get in the way when doctors poke and prod. Oh and bless you Y.P. And leggings when we get on the doctor’s scale (you don’t weigh much my friend). 

Jeans and slacks have betrayed me (😡) and  I have said goodbye to them now for about eight years as the edema in my legs makes me wear a size 14-16 for my lower legs, which just doesn’t jive with my size 2 waist. 

But all hail my dress black yoga pants which serve me well everyday; lounging, sleeping, working, churching…. yes I still hide my legs in shame and humiliation and never sit down without something on my lap and draped over my knees to hide the hideous bulbous mess that is my lower body… but at least my yoga pants love me and don’t punish or judge 🙂

The swollen foot escaped!



The pants that love you back ❤ (not my butt 😉)

When Life Punishes You For Living

Here I am again, posting on another “bad” day.

You see I’ve had some decent ones, even though I never feel “great” I’ve had consecutive weeks/months of having a better balance here and there. Inflammation has been acutely worse for weeks, but I’ve been able to maneuver around it to a point. Yes I’ve had days of crashing more and napping more, yes I’ve had to say no to going to church and Bible study because “extras” are too much. (Hey wait a minute! Maybe I’ve been struggling more than I’ve acknowledged). But anyway, then there is today; today when I feel my body is getting revenge for all my betrayal. Today when I feel stripped to the bone. I woke up at 11am (yeah I know), and still felt I could barely climb out of bed. Breakfast happened at 12:30 sitting in a detox bath, and I feel completely horrible: achy, stiff, toxic, beyond fatigued, heavy, swollen, fuzzy-brained. The autoimmune overactivity is high and I can both see and feel the fluid and pain.

So what did I do to myself to deserve this? That is always the question I first ask because self-blame is my automatic go-to. Well what I “did” was try being semi-normal for a few weeks: having to work a couple weeks full time, eating some “bad” stuff here and there (and by bad I mean bad for me personally; like dark chocolate, some organic mayo, some cayenne, a little vegan ice cream,etc.). Am I right in beating myself up? I am never sure how bad to guilt trip myself. It’s so hard when all you want to do is live and your body is just really not into that.

I am still counting the days until my new patient consult on the 14th at Sophia to address autoimmune issues and mast cell activation disorder (assuming that’s what’s going on). I’ve had a couple doctors confirm that Borrelia, Bartonella, Babesia, Epstein Barr, Erlychia…and all the rest including viral coinfections, are”fixed”, so I’m hoping the last hurdle is the autoimmune, but it’s a big hurdle. 

I have not paid any attention to fundraising for a long time; mostly being it makes me feel shamed, embarrassed, unworthy, guilty, and all the feelings that orbit the above. But more than that is my constant guilt of being a drain on my family. Thankfully family medical expenses have come down a bit from around 6,000 a month to around 2,000, which is good but still difficult. As my sister and I are about to embark pursuing this new clinic though they may jump up again exponentially, so I will put a link here so anyone that is able and led to help. Youcaring

So here I sit in bed on a Sunday afternoon wishing I could have gone to church, wishing I could take my dog out, wishing I could be out and about. Tomorrow may be better, I’ve been through this more times than I can count and I know that often things won’t be so bad the next day. On a day like this things always feel so bleak, but I know that tomorrow always brings new hope and a different viewpoint.

I’m glad I write on bad days, when I can’t move and I hurt and can’t think well; Writing gives me a sense of purpose and makes me feel I’m still here, still fighting.

See you tomorrow 🌅