Now, I think when skinny jeans were invented, they were made for people with bodies that are pleasing to look at, where clothes just magically mold to their figures, not a curve nor a crease of undesired proportions to be had. When I wear skinny jeans, they are always too long, and obviously, too tight. I find that they bunch at my ankles, suffocate my calves and squeeze the crap out of my thighs to the point where I actually leave the top button undone so as to convince myself that these jeans are not as tight as they seem. (I only unbutton them when I'm in the house I swear, I mean come on, who doesn't???) And then this gets me thinking about all body types out there and the quirky names they give them. We've got the rectangle, the oval, the hour glass, the pear, the wedge (what?) and many other innocent names to describe them all. I personally think I'm a spoon. And here's why: I'm short (obviously) and, let's just say, well endowed in my derriere. The funny thing about this shape is that when I gain weight, I gain it in my ass and when I lose it, it vanishes from my non-existent bosom. (This is where I would insert a sad face but I don't know how.) It's a vicious cycle I tell you.
Funny thing happened to me a few years ago while wearing the infamous skinny jeans. Mike and I were getting ready to fly back to Japan from the states and, of course, I had to be fashionable. I picked out a cute sweater, skinny jeans and flats. The first half of the flight was rather uneventful. But then, after the cabin pressure started to show it's effects, I started to feel claustrophobic in my skinny jeans. I was like freaking out, I'm not even kidding. Mike just told me to suck it up. Well, that was after he told me I was stupid for wearing skinny jeans on a 14 hour flight. Back to my problem, I just could not fathom the idea of wearing these ridiculously, insanely tight pants anymore and came up with my own solution: I took my pants off. Now don't freak on me and think that I just stripped in front of the entire 747 Delta coach cabin. I discretely placed one of those scratchy blankets over my lap and voila, you couldn't even tell. But I will be honest when I say, it got kind of gross. You see, this was an old plane, therefore an old coach cabin with old, probably pleather seats. So of course I developed a case of SWASS (you know, sweaty ass) and then had another problem to overcome. Was it worth the skinny jeans or the swass? I caved and pried on the darn skinny jeans and since then, I have never looked back.
So what's the point this post? Mmm, no reason. Just felt like you wanted my take on skinny jeans.
