At 5’9” and not quite 100 lbs., I have an interesting time finding jeans.
I’m starting to think that weaving palm-frond shorts on a desert island would be a little easier.
I have only one pair of jeans from last year that still fits me. They’re not a style I like, and I’ll be needing a couple more pairs shortly. So, when we found ourselves at Kohl’s last night (funny how that happens), we thought I should take a peek at the jeans and see if I could find anything. This, my friends, is where the saga begins.
First I go to the wall of little 1’x1’ cubby holes filled with all sorts of faded, torn, and otherwise butchered denim. Lo and behold, only two styles greet me: skinny or flare.
To clarify, I look like a whittled-down beanpole in skinny jeans. In flare jeans, I look like a concave perm curler.
I sigh and throw a pair of non-“distressed” jeans in the basket to try on. (The torture devices they use on those poor pants is another story…stones? bleach? “distressing?” You’d think they were wanted by the FBI.)
After an uncomfortable and unfruitful fitting-room session, I continue my quest in the Misses’ section. Their smallest size is a size 4. Godzilla and I would fit in size 4. Back to Juniors’.
On a side note, I will throw a party and set off fireworks the day I can shop in Misses’.
Finally I stumble upon a rack of Levi’s. Definitely not my brand of choice, but I look at the labels anyway—bootcut and probably long enough, with no holes, bleaching, wrinkles, ripped-out stitching, paint splatters, rhinestones, worn-out hems, dorky plastic belts, metal studs, or other foofaraw that would set off the bomb detectors at the airport.
Ok, satisfactory. I peek at the price. $34.99….on sale. Who do they think I am, the young Miss Rockefeller?!
At this point my dear mother enters the story and we comb Juniors’ with a fine-tooth barber comb. By they way, did you know this season the fad is “bold denim”? Interpretation: too-tight, denim leggings in every color of the rainbow, including but not limited to turquoise, fuchsia, cobalt blue, goldenrod, bright scarlet, and black.
We go back to the wall of cubby holes. We compared a few of the styles—“Scorpio”, “Aquarius”….wait….astrology jeans?? You. have GOT. to be kidding me.
I almost ran out the door screaming.
In the end, I settled on a pair of the most pleasantly boring pair of jeans you’d ever hope to meet. And--happy day--I even have to roll them up three inches.
Shopping is such a nice, appealing experience, isn’t it?