Ode to Mom Jeans

Oh tragic trousers, too much maligned,

it seems that you’re not properly designed

to please the uber-fashionista crowd,

that bunch of vapid, under-endowed

stick figures who suffer for their look,

who’d rather starve and swoon than cook,

who order drinks with, please, no cubes

and don’t mind showing off their pubes,

which creep over their low-cut pants

like some invasive garden plant.

Oh roomy jeans, they fit just right,

they keep my love handles out of sight

I love the give, I love the take           

the stretch of elastic around my waist.

So they make my butt look flat --

hello! something wrong with that?

look, most moms are busy and harassed,

no time to keep up with fashions vast,

hip and trendy – Give us comfy, give us quick,

machine-washable and non-stick.

Oh mom couture, we want you back,

we’re sick and tired of wearing black

of pouring our veteran bodies into clothes

as uncomfortable as pantyhose.

It’s time to claim our mom couture,

to prove that comfort and allure

aren’t mutually exclusive concepts

in a mother’s wardrobe; she who schleps,

carpools, cooks, works and…screams…

deserves a break. And so it seems

that more of us should come clean

about how sometimes we lust for mom jeans.