What I had planned on writing about today was one particular thing.
Until yesterday happened.
Now, it might not seem much to you but I do know that there are women out there who hate shopping for jeans as much or more than I do. First there is all the styles out there: butt pockets or not? Dark or light colored denim? Premade wear wrinkles or not? Worn out butt or thigh areas? And last but not least, high rise? Low rise? Skinny leg? WTF, Designers? I want some jeans, ok? I’m not deciding on car options! I’m not very tall; ok, my kids refer to me as a hobbit. It’s not that bad, but buying jeans adds another question to the mix. Short or petite versus regular or tall? If I bought tall, I would be buying two pairs of jeans because I’d have to have them tailored at the knees. Don’t even get me talking about the flattering fitting rooms. Why do they have the temperature of the sun on in there? Each time I tried a different pair of jeans on, I had a hot flash. I don’t know if it was from frustration of yet another pair not looking good on me or merely the exertion of pulling the damn things on and off!
The sales clerk then had a brilliant (to her) idea and brought me some Jeggings. Jeggings. Just let that sit out there for a minute while you think about it. I seriously can not make these things up. Jeggings are Jean Leggings. And they look hideous. On me.
And then! THEN they tell me that it really isn’t jean season anymore and here, try on these crop pants! Really? REALLY? I have black socks on and with white crop pants, I look like an absolute idiot in the mirror. To try on any thing remotely looking like summertime, I need to be tan (fake or real). I need to have sandals on. I don’t want to see my sweater bunched up on the pseudo seat behind me in the mirror. Then, lets discuss sizes.
Oh. My. God. Sizes.
I went to Chicos because they are the only place I know of that sells grown up pants. You know, grown up, as in none of this low rise stuff. The image of me in low rise jeans complete with tramp stamp and thong underwear showing is more frightening than every scary movie all thrown together in an un-ending loop. But the sizes they use there! I suppose that they are trying to make the population of women feel better about themselves by using this sizing chart: 0, 1, 2, 3, or 4. Zero being (in the other department world) means size 6-8. One being size 10-12 and so on. It was like learning a different language. I had to remember to yell to the sales clerk that I needed a certain size and then I had to reconfigure it with their size language. It was like being in a country that is all metric and you want to find out the temperature. Shopping for jeans shouldn’t be so hard!
I did not come home with new jeans at all.
Up next week? The fun never stops: bra shopping.