It's All The Rage!

I discovered a new work out the other day. If you like shopping (I don't really, unless it's for jeans which I have a small addiction to), here's a way to kill two birds with one stone! It's not really enjoyable, but it is slightly awkward and embarrassing, much like your typical spin class. The caveat is that you get to go home with a really cute pair of jeans (or two) and a funny story. I'm talking about shopping for "skinny jeans".  It was my goal...my mission...to find the pair of perfectly fitting, snug but not "People of Walmart" snug, skinny jeans. My theory is that with no excess give anywhere, not even one unused or wasted molecule of fabric, I will be vacuum sealed into gorgeously forgiving stretchy denim goodness.

Everything was fine, at first. l started out in the "Women's Department". But just as I suspected, lady-sized "skinny jeans" are not truly skinny. At least not skinny enough. There was no "Wow!" factor. Just some mediocre snug fitting thick denim blah-jeans. So I meandered over to the "High Fashion" aka "Super Freaking Amazingly Cute and Exorbitantly Expensive" jeans department. I knew I was going to head over there eventually....that's where my beloved True Religion jeans are. But I was waiting, I was calculating, I was trying on ugly jeans first so that the high I felt when I finally shimmied into a pair of my TR jeans would be even more delicious (I am so weird about my denim shopping habits that I'm beginning to think it's a kind of peculiar fetish).

So I do my typical "wander over". Please...I invite you to hop on board the crazy train with me. This is my process: I start in the far corner of the store and move in the general direction of my goal locale, trying not to bump into people or stupid sweater racks as I keep my eyes carefully averted until I am finally close enough to allow myself to slowly...reverently, lift my face toward the row upon row, rack upon rack of gorgeous, glorious,  fashionable denim. I allow my solemn gaze to rest upon and delight in this magical world for few moments, my eyes becoming soft and light. A small, almost timid smile transforms my once pensive demeanor in to one of quiet and happy servitude. An audible sigh escapes from my now parted lips, even as I struggle to maintain my composure. My nervously racing pulse slows to a melodic, almost hypnotic drum beat...thump...thump.......thump...urging me forward, content now and pliant. I am a simple marionette, controlled by a higher power, the power of good quality denim (oh my gosh, I think I need help). Anyway, I made it. I stand. I stare. I dig in.

I grab several pair of different brands of skinny jeans and head for the dressing room. The Miss Me's are too small (as if I'm going to buy a pair of those in a size bigger than I think I should be wearing!), the 7 For All Mankind are sort of "mom jean" looking (I realize I didn't grab the skinny cut, just the regular which I don't care for in that brand. I'll have to head back out). Saving the best for last, I nervously start to stick my trembling legs into the first pair of True Religion jeans...I have to work pretty hard. I mean...really hard. I jump up and down, I wiggle around, I do the full body wave, I pull them up inch by inch like I was pulling on a pair of tights (which is why I don't wear tights). What the HELL? I finally get them buttoned and they looked so freaking stupid! I'm aghast, crestfallen, truly shocked and completely let down (you get the idea). Then I glance at the tag and realize that I grabbed a pair of "legging jeans". Stop it! I felt ridiculous and slightly duped standing there in "legging jeans".

Off. I wanted them OFF! And here is where the work out began. Let's just say it took a bit of time and some Herculean effort to get these stupid things off. I was sweating, and cursing, occasionally laughing like a mad woman, red faced, mortified but also having the most hysterically funny moment I can remember in a dressing room. I was so weakened by the exercise that the next 27 pair of jeans I tried on nearly killed me...each one becoming increasingly more difficult to peel off and on as my muscles screamed at me to just forget this nonsense and go for a run if I need a cardio blast! The whole experience gave new meaning to the word "pant".

After getting stuck in not one, but several pair of skinny jeans, one would think I would leave the store defeated (and maybe with a super hot pair of boot cut or straight cut jeans!). But not I. I persevered. I think it was Louis L'Amour who said "Victory is won not in miles but in inches..." He was probably talking about war but whatever.

I left victorious and with these two pair of skinny (not legging) jeans. 7 For All Mankind on the left, True Religion on the right. I just love how they name jeans to make you feel like buying them is an altruistic or spiritual act...ha ha ha.....ha ha....ha.

Heading to the Grand Nationals Rodeo tonight. The question is...which jeans do I wear?