Spoiler alert: This is not a rant about how the world is going to hell in a hand basket. It’s not a rant about how we sleep at night with starving children in Sudan. It’s not a rant about Trump or politics or congress folk or the environmental value of wind turbines.
This is what has annoyed the heck out of me this week. (Well, to be perfectly honest, it’s a multi-year feud.) And it’s utterly trivial–and utterly important in its own trivial way.
Are you ready? Jeans. Jeans have caused me no end of grief recently. Do you remember the days when you traipsed into your favorite JC Penney’s or Yonker’s or Kohl’s and grabbed your Levis or Lees or Riders and delightedly hurried up to the cashier to purchase?
I can never remember a moment like that. All my life I’ve suffered attempting to buy jeans that will actually FIT. And it’s only worsened by 100%. The way things are going I’ll be stuck in the house all winter with Nothing to Wear. And winter is just around the corner, some folks say, now that August is taking a bow.
OK, here’s the latest scoop on Doomsday. I have lost a lot of weight since digestive troubles hit last winter. All intended, mind you. It’s actually a good thing, a thing to celebrate. I was at my highest around Groundhog’s Day, not that you’ll ever know what the evil scale said.
Since that fateful day (fat-full day) with a new diet this body has sloughed away 22-23 pounds, depending on what the delightful scale announces. This happened once before back in 2005 when we started a macrobiotic diet to try & heal my ailing gallbladder. I remember feeling zippity doo dah back then! And now it’s 2018 and the old girl is dancing happily in her skinnier incarnation, feeling that blessed energy zing. (Not to say she’s 100% digestively healed, mind you, because she’s not. But she’s maybe 75%.)
OK, the rant gains momentum…
At Book Club last week Nancy said, “Get yourself a new pair of jeans, Kathy! Those are falling off you!”
Darn it all. Those were my last pair of almost-fitting jeans. Now it would be necessary to travel to a nearby big city to find some. And History shook her finger at me. “You won’t be able to find jeans,” History leered, “You’re hopeless at finding jeans.”
But I was young and excited this morning and roared off to Marquette to shop. Surely goodness and mercy would follow me today!
First stop: Kohl’s. You look around the store, ready to find your perfect pair of jeans. However, 75% of the jeans boast shredded and ripped holes. New style, you know, as you’re not completely a woods hermit. However, you do not want shredded jeans. Move on. You want Mom jeans. Google says that Mom jeans are a style of jeans considered unfashionable or unflattering. I find that a very inaccurate portrayal! Mom jeans are perfectly stylish. All moms know that.
You grab a handful of jeans–maybe a dozen–and waltz toward the dressing room.
Disappointment #1: How can a person lose over 20 pounds and still not fit in the next lowest size? I have been wearing a size 12 for ten years. I grabbed sizes 8-12. Do you think ANY of the size 10’s would fit? Oh no. Would any size 12’s fit? Oh no. Somehow this body must be stuck in the la-la land of in-between. Which, in my case, is always where I am. In between everything. I couldn’t pull the size 8 up over my thighs. Some of the morning’s high hopes fizzled away…
Disappointment #2: Boot cut jeans. Do you realize what boot cut jeans mean? They mean if you wear sandals or sneakers–don’t even pick them off the rack. These jean bottoms wander down below your ankles and bunch by your toes. If you don’t own snappy-dappy boots, leave ’em on the shelf.
Disappointment #3: Spandex. Oh, don’t get me going about Spandex. Everyone seems to love this material, insisting that it stretches gently to encompass sagging bellies, rounded hips and bulging thighs. Every single time I buy a pair of jeans sporting 1-2% Spandex, by Day #2 the crotch hangs low and the waist dances. Laundry becomes a daily affair! Can’t a person buy a pair of jeans without Spandex? (See, the rant is going strong now.)
Disappointment #4: Skinny jeans. Why I even tried on skinny jeans is beyond understanding. Skinny jeans wrap your calves so securely you can’t even pull them on. Note: Kathy, you will never wear skinny jeans. Leave ’em to the teenage crowd.
Disappointment #5: Relaxed and loose simply don’t fit, either. I WANT CLASSIC JEANS! Aren’t there classic jeans anywhere? WHERE ARE THE STYLISH MOM JEANS? (And don’t tell me to order on-line. I don’t want to send back a dozen pair in an attempt to find a size that fits.)
I noticed a jean called “Boyfriend” but decided a happily married woman should just leave that well enough alone.
Finally zipped across the road to Goodwill. Perhaps the Universe might smile–pretty please?–and provide said jeans. I tried on another eight, nine, ten. No fit, no fit, no fit.
Suddenly a ray of hope dawned! OK, these size 10 jeans didn’t fit perfectly–they slung lower on the hips than preferred. They might fall off if I lose another five pounds. But they would do for the next 50 degree day. I could go out in public this fall without public disapproval ! And they didn’t cost an arm and a leg–the sign said $5.99!
I scurried to the checkout, clutching the blue jeans as if they were gold.
“That will be $2.99,” said the chirpy sales clerk. “They’re on sale today.”
End one thousand word rant. It feels so good to rant sometimes, doesn’t it? (And this amuses part of me so much!) With love from the seat of my pants, Kathy
P.S. This was my lunch today. And I ate the WHOLE THING!