Tuesday, October 21, 2014

The Old Boot Cuts

In my closet, scattered on several shelves, are various piles of jeans of all ages and styles.  There are the VERY skinny jeans which I should just give away but for some reason I don't.  These generally have zippers that are about two inches long.  They were expensive and have fancy embroidery on the pockets.  That pile, like the swimming suit box, should have a sign, like the entrance to Hell, saying "Abandon all hope".  Then there are the jeans in the current rotation, which include a few cheap pairs from Kohls and Old Navy that I own because they fit until the other ones fit again. Uh huh.  They wll fit again. These are almost all skinny (referring to the shape of the leg, of course, and not the size). 

I admit sometimes that I miss the day when flare leg jeans were the most in style jeans.  They never really go out of style, but I will always feel that they are the most flattering.  I don't know how we lived through most of the 80's and 90's without them.  I don't wear them much lately in fear of being that person who still wears the same trends from high school or college and everyone can tell exactly how old they are. 

So yesterday I decided to wear a pair of older jeans.  They are the "long and lean" cut from Gap which I find to be one of their most generic but versatile styles.  I can't remember when I wore these last but it was probably between my two pregnancies, sometime in 2012, because they pretty loose for their size.  They definitely don't feel as loose as they did in 2009 when my sister and I bought them on sale together and later both regretted not getting a smaller size because they stretched out a lot during the day.

OK, I admit it...I felt youthful and slim in these pants.  I wore them with a t-shirt and almost felt like a college student again.  That illusion was shattered, however, when Ben and Tessa resumed their usual routine of following me around all day and hanging on my legs screaming whenever I tried to do anything not related to them.  In fact, Tessa is standing by the bar stool I am sitting on right now, clawing at my leg and screaming.  I gotta go.


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