Some folks already know how my skinny jeans saga began.
I had seen all sorts of women rocking these jeans, many more voluptuous than I, and looking good in them. And I thought, “me too! I can wear these jeans!” So I went in pursuit of a pair.
Later, in a dressing room session Alex will surely recount to a therapist one day, I found a pair that I thought worked. I took the jeans to the counter. The cashier suggested that I go down a size, as these jeans (according to her) are known to stretch out. I took her advice despite the fact that she looked like her jeans size doesn’t even involve numbers, which might make her uniquely unqualified to make any suggestions about the fitting needs of women who’s jeans size plainly involves numbers.
Shortly thereafter, I wore the jeans on a date, wondering what he would think of me if it turned out that I had to ask him to remove the jeans, not for recreational purposes, but in order to ensure proper circulation in my lower extremities. Fortunately, this did not come to pass.
I couldn’t decide how I felt about jeans that were so skinny that they had a knack for getting lost in my closet among the less skinny clothing…until this week.
I decided that the jeans could, indeed, be a part of my wardrobe. They would just have to function as tights. They will likely feel more at home in the tights drawer.
Turns out they go great with dresses that function as shirts.