Don’t judge me, but this week I succumbed to my first pair of comfortable white slacks, complete with elasticated waistband for reassuring, yet gentle muffin top control, airy bagginess in the thigh area and tapered bottoms – which are obviously just a feeble attempt by the designer to make them look slightly less ‘Nana’.

A fashion statement they’re not. Sadly, they don’t look like this…

I’d like to say that I resemble one of those celebrities who can don a man’s white suit and look hot or super chic, but alas, I look more Karate Kid than Kate Hudson in my particular brand of middle-aged, baggy white trousers.

In those rare moments when I’m still feeling positive about my fatal decision to visit the hush-hush, concealed, fourth floor, plus-size section of Myer, to finally succumb to my previous decade’s fashion temptation of wanting to be comfortable ALL the time, I convince myself that that the pants convey a lofty air of boatiness. Especially when I accessorise them with my nautical, striped top – which by the way, is a fashion statement at the moment.

On more honest days, I know I look 50 going on 60.

It’s getting harder and harder to fight this primal desire to be comfortable, rather than stylish. I’ve never owned a pair of white trousers in my life – neither slacks nor skinnies. Ignoring the obvious issue that you have to wear dull, flesh-coloured undies underneath them, which make my pelvic area look like it’s had a muffin top extension, I have always believed that darker colours are more flattering on the more ample pear figure. And my mother did always warn me about the danger of having an accident and getting caught in the ER with boring undies on.

So what went wrong? How did those statement middle-aged white slacks end up in the changing room with me, hidden amongst all those other more fashionable, tighter garments I had kidded myself would look good?

And why has no-one commented on how good my boating trousers look, or even asked me where I moor my boat?

More importantly, what is about their magnetic attraction to food.

But negatives aside – WOWSER – they certainly meet their brief and are as comfortable as I always imagined them to be! So they’re a linen mix, which obviously creases like a motherfucker every time I breathe in them, but at least the lines compliment my skin. But they also move WITH me harmoniously, rather than AGAINST my body. Air has found a rite of passage around my thighs again and the waistband moves with the momentum of my muffin top and so allows me to fit in dessert.

No-one’s pretending that white slacks are sexy, but they sure are comfortable.