Since I left the shop, I have barely pulled denim over my legs. Yeah, I broke down and got some ill-fitting capris jeans out of desperation, but jeans? Nope. It has been about skirts, slacks, and yoga pants. Until today. Today I decided to get a new pair of jeans.
I went to Old Navy on State, only because the idea of walking down to Lane Bryant on Wabash was not appealing. I wanted jeans that were loose and comfy. I have a couple pair now, but they are jeans that I have to pour myself into. I don’t want to pour right now, I want to slide into jeans.
However, I did something I swore I wouldn’t do again. Low Rise Jeans. LRJ should really be called Don’t Fucking Stay Up Jeans, but that isn’t great marketing is it? They fit nicely and I made sure to squat down and see if they fell off. They didn’t (even though my undies did peek out of the waistband) so I took a pair home. I also didn’t bother forcing myself into a pair of 16s. I have to recommit to my body, my food choices, exercising if I want to regularly buy 16s anytime soon.
I’m on my way out the door to early services at temple. Ronnie canceled our plans, so I’m going to stick around for the family dinner. A lot of my friends are going this week, so it should really be fun. I’m even going to wear the risky jeans and hope the whole congregation doesn’t see my underwear.
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