Now reading
I Wore Jeans for the First Time Since Thanksgiving and Lived to Tell the Tale

I Wore Jeans for the First Time Since Thanksgiving and Lived to Tell the Tale

jeans

Wearing jeans for the first time after Thanksgiving is an important milestone. When you wear denim again, you’re staking your claim as a fastened pants person. After the third day of eating stuffing leftovers and wearing the elastic band of denial, I knew I was it was time to take action.

The thought of pulling and zipping may seem overwhelming when the heaviest thing you’ve lifted lately is a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes, but you can do this. It isn’t easy leaving leggings, athleisure, and sweatpants behind, but if I was able to survive eight hours in my most forgiving pair of four-way stretch jeans, you can do it, too. I have faith that your best constricting slacks years are still ahead of you. To help prepare you, this is what I experienced the first day of my denim comeback.

7:10 a.m.: It’s now or never. I’ve done this thousands, maybe millions, of times. I’m at the knees. This is where it gets tricky. I think a deep breath and an aggressive thigh shimmy should get the job done. PULL! JUMP! BUTTON! I’m in.

9:03 a.m.: I should’ve known that was too easy. My fly has been open since I left the house. Now that it’s zipped, I can’t bend more than 45 degrees. This is more than a muffin top. I am a mushroom made of denim and flesh.

10:37 a.m.: I’m uncomfortable, and I feel uneasy. My body aches, and I’m experiencing shortness of breath. According to WebMD, my body might be rejecting the foreign denim. I should’ve known that going from cotton and lycra spandex to denim would be too overwhelming.

1:20 p.m.: I’m in a denim prison of my own making. I can’t breathe, can’t eat. I feel every seam and every stitch burrowing into my stuffing-puffed skin. This is how a foot must feel in a compression sock.

3:11 p.m.:  I’ve been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, but it’s not what you think: I’m just taking a little pants break. I’m not sure which would be worse: lying about diarrhea or admitting that I need to sit with my pants undone for a little while.

4:09 p.m.: I guess I just thought the jeans would be a little more understanding, you know? We’ve spent so much time together. Cute times, casual times. Good butt days and bad butt days.

4:28 p.m.: Did I mention that the ink tag was in a really inconvenient spot when I bought these jeans? I had to be extra careful when I tried them on in the fitting room. I went through all that effort, and this is how they repay me.

4:35 p.m.: I just think it’s funny how I’m buying fabric softener and the more expensive Tide with Febreze, and for what? So a pair of entitled jeans can swallow me alive like a Venus flytrap?

5:42 p.m.: FREEDOM! I can bend my legs again! Look! They cross! Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a little rest. I’ve been wearing those jeans all day, and I’m exhausted.

1:14 a.m. [while asleep]: An angry pair of dark wash Levi 501’s menacingly slithers after me as I run through the woods holding a whole turkey under my arm like a football player running for a touchdown.

1 Comment

  1. Angela Maree Barnett November 29, 2016

    Sometimes I wear my pregnancy jeans for special occasions like Christmas or family feasts (we don’t have Thanksgiving in New Zealand). Genius invention. 😉

Comments are closed.

Scroll down to load next post