I don't know "who" they are designing jeans for these days, but I am fairly certain it is not for me. This makes me sad.
Today was a Look For A New Pair Of Jeans Day. There was a time when the very thought of this day, lurking somewhere ahead on the calender, was enough to give me an anxiety attack. Dread. Dread. Dread.
I'm better about the event now. But I do have "qualifications" for any pair of jeans that I buy:
First, I'd like my stretch marks to be covered, thank you very much. I view them proudly as my "badges of courage", but somehow I do not think that John & Jane Public care to see them. No low risers for me. However, in saying this, I am NOT saying that I want my pants to come up anywhere near my arm pits. So let's find a happy compromise.
Second, although I am rather pleased with my derriere, it is another body part that I'd prefer to keep under-wraps, if we could. I know what you're thinking: nothing says, "I'm a modern mother in the prime of her life" quite like bending over and showing "butt cleavage"; but I'm just not that girl, I'm sorry to say.
Third, no bedazzling, please. Don't get me wrong, sparkles are pretty, and I like to wear jewelery. Just not on the outer seams of my pants, or lining the pockets, or in a fanciful butterfly decorations on the rear pockets. I'll have to pass on those too, please.
Three things. That's a short list. And yet what a tiring hunt these three tiny qualifications make buying jeans. Too gap-y. Too low. Too high. Too....shiny. It's enough to make me want to create a "Yoga Pant Only" rule.
In the end, after some careful searching, much trying on, and some minor concessions, I had some denim success. And the hunt did not get the best of me. I still left the store with a smile on my face. Success was hard won, true; but it was won just the same.