Scrawny Jeans

It feels so good to be done with my first semester at the University of Arizona and to be back in Washington for Christmas.  It’s been awhile since I last blogged because the end of the semester was slightly hectic.

Today I went shopping with the Kecks, one of my second families.  We stopped by the Levi’s store to look for jeans and as usual I was having trouble finding jeans in my size.  Apparently few people are as lanky as I am (it would be so much easier if I just got a little tubbier).  One of the sales people started looking for jeans in my size without my soliciting his help.  He was unsuccessful and sincerely apologized.  Since there were no jeans that I wanted Nathan, my 18 year old friend, recommended that I try on a pair of skinny jeans.  I wasn’t planning on buying any skinny jeans, but I thought it’d be funny to try some on just like it’d be funny to try on a do-rag or a cardigan, but I’d never buy such a thing.

I went into the fitting room and wriggled my way into the jeans.  I examined myself in the mirror and thought I looked pretty absurd.  I left the fitting room and went into the main part of the store to show the Kecks how funny I looked.  I was totally expecting them to disapprove of the skinny jeans because Nathan wears skater clothes, Lisa shops at Ann Taylor, and Brad was about to buy a pair of jeans that had just been described as “unflattering.”  I was bum-puzzled when they all loved the jeans.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: They’re too tight.
Lisa: They look really good.  I like them.
Nathan: I like them, too.
Me: But I can’t move.
Brad: They really do look good.
Me: But you can see the curvature of my butt!
Lisa: That’s kind of the point.

At this point two male sales associates joined in on the conversation.  They were the kind of people that wear tight jeans rolled up at the bottom, v-neck shirts, have pierced ears, and wear Toms.  They both insisted that I looked awesome, too.  I didn’t know what to do so I started spouting excuses for not being able to wear the jeans such as, “I can’t wear skinny jeans; I’m a Republican!”  I also tried to explain that my legs are so skinny that the idea that fabric was touching all sides of my leg at the same time seemed unseemly.  But they wouldn’t have any of it and insisted that I looked great.

I eventually waddled away from the conversation pretending like the jeans were so tight that I couldn’t walk properly in them.  After struggling to get out of them I tried to hand them to Amanda, the lady guarding the fitting rooms.  She told me that the jeans made me look sexy (that’s quite a feat, let me tell you) and wouldn’t take them.  I tried to give them to her and she would not take them.  Lisa walked over, grabbed the jeans and said that she would be buying them for me as Christmas present because if she gave them to me then I’d be obligated to wear them.  I had been defeated.

As we looked around the store a bit more I said to Lisa, “Are you going to make me wear v-neck shirts, too?”  One of the sales associates wearing a v-neck overheard and said, “You could totally rock a v-neck.”  I decided to stop mentioning clothes before they picked out an entire wardrobe for me that I didn’t want.

When people ask me what I want for Christmas this year I’ve been saying, “All I want is some new socks.”  They had a great sale on socks so I bought a pack of six for $2.  I had unexpectedly been gifted a pair of jeans that I thought made me look ridiculous, but at least I left with the only thing I wanted for Christmas.

When I got home I told my sister that the Kecks had bought me a pair of skinny jeans.  She was horrified.  That’s no exaggeration, she was actually horrified.  So many mixed signals tonight.  I guess some people just don’t want to see the curvature of my butt.