Wednesday, 13 November 2013

Give me Levis or give me death

Speaking of fat asses, Scott forced me out of my comfort zone yesterday to buy a pair of pants. Most girls would get up on their stilettos and go "yee-haw", but not me. I hate shopping for clothes.

Hate, I'm saying hate.

I hate shopping for clothes the way my daughter hates asparagus. Don't make me. Shop, that is. It's vomit inducing.

I hate shopping the way a cow might hate branding. Or a bug might hate being squashed under the boot of an insensitive unthinking pedestrian.

The thing is, last year, I threw out all my fat pants because I'd lost ten pounds and had kept it off for months. That was back when I was on blood pressure meds and water pills. Now my BP is fine but I've whaled up again and no matter how much rowing and bopping on the elliptical I do, I can't shrink the muffin top.

It feels awful and looks worse, like you're wearing a reverse girdle or a lifesaver around the middle. So I've taken to wearing yoga pants nearly every day. It's my generation's equivalent of my mom's stretchy polyester attire, the kind that smelled like dead cats when exiting the dryer.

But tomorrow I have to go somewhere for work and I only have yoga pants to wear. I have dressy stuff but I needed something casual, some sort of hip jean that didn't make me look like I'd just been for a work out.

So off to the store I went. Three stores actually.

I started at Addition-Elle, which has always been my go-to store. A-E is nearly the only place in town that makes tops the size of awnings for big boobed girls. Besides, their clothes never wear out. I bought my fat pants there during the Stone Age.

Lately, I've found A-E wanting. Last year, I tried to buy a pair of shorts there and was told by the salesthingy that they don't sell shorts.

"Big girls don't wear shorts," she sniffed.

Well, big girls like me buy shorts, but not from A-E anymore.

The thing about these fat girl stores is that they try to get you to buy clothes that have decals, studs and all manner of shiny things on them. Pockets have huge swoops on them, like somebody was making the fat ass for target practice.

This year's A-E fashions continued to disappoint. The jeans and pants were all made of shiny stretchy materials. Dudes, I'm not going to a disco!

Also, why is everybody making pants twelve feet long again? I thought we sorted that out. I'm not short but I'm not a super model. I don't do tailors.

Disappointed, I tried the Hudson Bay Company. And there were lot of jeans and pants for the Chubby Cheese set. Jessica Simpson has a whole host of jeans. You remember Jessica who was in all the tabloids for wearing "mom" jeans?

Well, now she's brought mom jeans to the masses.

Ugly, studley, magpie attracting jeans that might be fine for line dancing -- again, yee-haw -- but aren't made with the plain girl in mind. Give me Levi or give me death. .

Finally, I went to Winners, a place where the buyers have some sanity. They understand that jeans are like men. Each one, no matter how ugly, has a girl who will fall in love with them.

Like my men, I like my jeans plain. No bling, no fancy stitching, no Kitty cats or Tweetie Birds, just denim or a reasonable facsimile.

At Winners, I tried on several pairs -- something I failed to do at the other stores -- and discovered that most of them fit fine except in the calves. I have monster calves from my rowing days and have trouble finding boots to fit them. Now I'm finding that jeans don't like rowing calves, either.

Shit.

I finally found one pair of pants that fit. They were by Jones New York and are called Jeggings. They fit everywhere and tucked where they needed to. And they were only $39 -- a fair price for a pair of jeans I intend to wear until I get skinny again.

All excited, I took them home.

"What do you think?" I asked my husband.

"They look exactly your yoga pants."

Huh.

 

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