So, I need new jeans. It's Fall now, so finally, all the jeans will be out. Hooray! I went to Macy's knowing that I will find my friends, Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger and American Rag. They are the jeans that fit me best with my messed up body. Occasionally, I'll even throw in a pair of Seven jeans if I feel particularly extravagant. Tonight was the night and I was prepared to buy a couple of pairs.
I made my way to Porky's Place, aka Women's World or whatever you want to call it. I'm walking around looking for what I hope will be the magical experience of the jeans I want on sale. I was approached by what I can only assume was a stick bug. Why was Stick Bug working in Porky's Place? You don't put a skinny teenage stick bug in Porky's Place. I was instantly pissed. And, she is following me around, "Can I help you?" No, you cannot help me. Let me roam among the fat girl jeans in peace. I find some jeans that might work, so I'm holding them and she is like, "Can I get you a fitting room?" Look, she's just doing her job, I know this, but I don't need Stick Bug stalking me in my hour of uncertainty and insecurity. I tell her I'm fine, but since I'm not seeing the jeans I want, I ask her, "Are you carrying the American Rag jeans this year?" She says, "oh yes, they are right over here, what size do you need?" I tell her, "I don't know, it depends, I'll have to look at the styles..." She brings me over to one rack of the ugliest maternity-meets-jeggings-meets-pajama-pants jeans. I told her thank you and that I would look around. I was horrified, sad and outraged.
First of all, when in the hell did stirrup pants come back in fashion? WHO allowed this? I want to bitch slap every designer out there. I don't have stirrup pants legs! I can't do this. Secondly, who decided jeans should be made out of fabric that is a cross between spandex and Kleenex? Seriously. I have cellulite, people, I need structure, I need boundaries, I need shape. The absence of structure creates blob legs. I don't want blob legs. And, I'm not ready for stretchy waistbands. I didn't ask for this! The society of all fat girls did not ask for this. This is not okay. I depend on that ritual of negotiation in the morning where my jeans tell me to eff off and my finger goes missing some skin as I beg my zipper to come up. And then, I look in the mirror and I am in the shape of a muffin and I know that I can't have hot chocolate on the way to work. I count on this process to let me know I'm out of hand. Son-of-a-bitch.
No Calvin, no Tommy and now, no American Rag. This is the most disappointing thing that has happened since we found out that Coca-Cola was bad for us. This is EPIC. I settled on some Lucky Brand jeans, some INC jeans and some Seven Jeans. I went into the fitting room and started trying them on. It was horrifying. Nothing is fitting right. The legs are too long, there is too much "whiskering" on the thighs and holy mother of all things spandex, what is going on with the mermaid legs? And why are the pockets half way down my thighs in the back? I can't go in public like this. I try on the Seven Jeans hoping for some glimmer of hope. OH MY WORD, what happened to my ass?!? Is that MY ass? Holy 40 year old ass!! When did it start looking like that? It's flat and I've developed saggy fat girl butt in the part that should be round. Where is the junk in my trunk? Where is my apple bottom? Why are the pockets so big? What is happening? I'm going to throw up, right here on the floor of the dressing room where some little girl has probably pissed herself while her Mom sat there sobbing because she just realized she had 40 year old ass. I was devastated. Why didn't someone tell me? How long has this been going on? Will didn't say anything...this is serious. I have no boobs and no ass. I am a disgrace to all girls with curves. I don't have curves, just a really bad U-turn.
I walked out of the dressing room, deflated. Stick Bug says all chipper, "You have any luck?" Luck finding my flat ass, that's it. I meandered over to the rack of Levi's. I found a pair and went back in there. My expectations were low and I found one pair that made me not throw up. Magical moment indeed. Somewhere a unicorn just died. I took my jeans out to Stick Bug and she rings me up making chit chat. I said, "I don't really know what is happening with fashion this season, but I'm not a fan. These jeans are ridiculous." She totally relates to me, "Oh, I KNOW! I bought a pair of jeggings and after I wore them, they were like three sizes too big after I washed them, and I was like, no way...and then I got this other pair of pants and I thought they were black but it turns out they were really dark blue, I was so disappointed." I stood there and blinked at her. What was my pity party all about? I mean, poor Stick Bug, her pants were too big and she got the wrong color. I don't know how she gets out of bed in the morning. Who knew you could stretch out a size zero? I felt like I should console her, buy her flowers, hug her, something, I mean, she has been through so much. I continued to just stare at her forehead as she talked and visualized I was engulfed in a warm blanket rocking back and forth petting my good dog Spanky...while wearing jeggings...
Finally, I left. I took the escalator down to the main floor where normal-sized clothing was kept with the normal people. I took my Levi's and I went home. I would say that it's a tough day to be bootylicious but I wouldn't know, I'm apparently a relative of Sponge Bob Square Pants, I'm his cousin Blob Legs Square Ass.
I'm worn out, run down and sad. Not sad enough to buy jeggings, but sad. I mean, I'm not going to buy jeggings. I won't.
I wonder when the jeggings will be on sale...
I made my way to Porky's Place, aka Women's World or whatever you want to call it. I'm walking around looking for what I hope will be the magical experience of the jeans I want on sale. I was approached by what I can only assume was a stick bug. Why was Stick Bug working in Porky's Place? You don't put a skinny teenage stick bug in Porky's Place. I was instantly pissed. And, she is following me around, "Can I help you?" No, you cannot help me. Let me roam among the fat girl jeans in peace. I find some jeans that might work, so I'm holding them and she is like, "Can I get you a fitting room?" Look, she's just doing her job, I know this, but I don't need Stick Bug stalking me in my hour of uncertainty and insecurity. I tell her I'm fine, but since I'm not seeing the jeans I want, I ask her, "Are you carrying the American Rag jeans this year?" She says, "oh yes, they are right over here, what size do you need?" I tell her, "I don't know, it depends, I'll have to look at the styles..." She brings me over to one rack of the ugliest maternity-meets-jeggings-meets-pajama-pants jeans. I told her thank you and that I would look around. I was horrified, sad and outraged.
First of all, when in the hell did stirrup pants come back in fashion? WHO allowed this? I want to bitch slap every designer out there. I don't have stirrup pants legs! I can't do this. Secondly, who decided jeans should be made out of fabric that is a cross between spandex and Kleenex? Seriously. I have cellulite, people, I need structure, I need boundaries, I need shape. The absence of structure creates blob legs. I don't want blob legs. And, I'm not ready for stretchy waistbands. I didn't ask for this! The society of all fat girls did not ask for this. This is not okay. I depend on that ritual of negotiation in the morning where my jeans tell me to eff off and my finger goes missing some skin as I beg my zipper to come up. And then, I look in the mirror and I am in the shape of a muffin and I know that I can't have hot chocolate on the way to work. I count on this process to let me know I'm out of hand. Son-of-a-bitch.
No Calvin, no Tommy and now, no American Rag. This is the most disappointing thing that has happened since we found out that Coca-Cola was bad for us. This is EPIC. I settled on some Lucky Brand jeans, some INC jeans and some Seven Jeans. I went into the fitting room and started trying them on. It was horrifying. Nothing is fitting right. The legs are too long, there is too much "whiskering" on the thighs and holy mother of all things spandex, what is going on with the mermaid legs? And why are the pockets half way down my thighs in the back? I can't go in public like this. I try on the Seven Jeans hoping for some glimmer of hope. OH MY WORD, what happened to my ass?!? Is that MY ass? Holy 40 year old ass!! When did it start looking like that? It's flat and I've developed saggy fat girl butt in the part that should be round. Where is the junk in my trunk? Where is my apple bottom? Why are the pockets so big? What is happening? I'm going to throw up, right here on the floor of the dressing room where some little girl has probably pissed herself while her Mom sat there sobbing because she just realized she had 40 year old ass. I was devastated. Why didn't someone tell me? How long has this been going on? Will didn't say anything...this is serious. I have no boobs and no ass. I am a disgrace to all girls with curves. I don't have curves, just a really bad U-turn.
I walked out of the dressing room, deflated. Stick Bug says all chipper, "You have any luck?" Luck finding my flat ass, that's it. I meandered over to the rack of Levi's. I found a pair and went back in there. My expectations were low and I found one pair that made me not throw up. Magical moment indeed. Somewhere a unicorn just died. I took my jeans out to Stick Bug and she rings me up making chit chat. I said, "I don't really know what is happening with fashion this season, but I'm not a fan. These jeans are ridiculous." She totally relates to me, "Oh, I KNOW! I bought a pair of jeggings and after I wore them, they were like three sizes too big after I washed them, and I was like, no way...and then I got this other pair of pants and I thought they were black but it turns out they were really dark blue, I was so disappointed." I stood there and blinked at her. What was my pity party all about? I mean, poor Stick Bug, her pants were too big and she got the wrong color. I don't know how she gets out of bed in the morning. Who knew you could stretch out a size zero? I felt like I should console her, buy her flowers, hug her, something, I mean, she has been through so much. I continued to just stare at her forehead as she talked and visualized I was engulfed in a warm blanket rocking back and forth petting my good dog Spanky...while wearing jeggings...
Finally, I left. I took the escalator down to the main floor where normal-sized clothing was kept with the normal people. I took my Levi's and I went home. I would say that it's a tough day to be bootylicious but I wouldn't know, I'm apparently a relative of Sponge Bob Square Pants, I'm his cousin Blob Legs Square Ass.
I'm worn out, run down and sad. Not sad enough to buy jeggings, but sad. I mean, I'm not going to buy jeggings. I won't.
I wonder when the jeggings will be on sale...
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