The battle of denim
I love skinny jeans and I want them to love me back.
But they don't.
They hate me and I think they want me dead.
The whole skinny jean trend came back into style just as I graduated college and started working full-time. I remember seeing girls prancing around in the alarmingly tight denim and thinking, "Dear Lord, please make it stop!"
The skinny jean look was, in a word, stupid. It looked stupid. The style was reminiscent of my elementary school tapered jeans days and I didn't understand why any grown woman would possibly want to look like she did in second grade. (Other than the fact that I had AMAZINGLY teased bangs. I so wish that would come back in style.)
It was easy to reject skinny jeans because most females I knew hated them, too. I proudly continued to wear my flared pants, feeling somewhat rebellious for not giving in to what was deemed "popular" by the masses.
Then about six months later, a pair of skinny jeans ended up in my closet.
I don't know how they got in there, you guys. The just showed up one day. It was so weird and to be honest, a little frightening! I almost called the police and was like, "Um, someone broke into my house and put ugly pants in my closet. Please arrest them."
Okay, obviously I bought them.
I think they were a pair of jeggings from Old Navy or somewhere equally cheap and forgetable. In the early years of my career I struggled with buying professional attire and would oftentimes find myself wandering around the mall after work, trying to figure out what I should wear while I sat in a cubicle all day. The company I worked for was casual, so jeans were totally acceptable and I started to see an emergence of skinny jeans paired with ballet flats and wouldn't ya know it, I started to think it was a cute look.
And it is ... on some people.
I'm just not one of those people.
Because let's be honest, skinny jeans are not kind to gals like me. Thick, athletic thighs are amplified in this particular style of pants, which actually wouldn't be so bad if my legs dwindled into delicate, thin ankles. But trying to pull that stretch denim over cankles and runner calves? Forget about it. I've had more than my fair share of meltdowns in dressing rooms.
But I keep buying (and blogging about) skinny jeans! Why do I do this to myself? Every time a new pair wanders into my closet, I can almost hear Regina George hissing, "STOP TRYING TO MAKE SKINNY JEANS HAPPEN. IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN."
If I wear my skinny jeans with anything other than knee-high boots, I feel grossly insecure. I walk past store windows, catch a glance of my reflection and see nothing but short, stumpy tree trunks suffocating in denim. I continue walking down the street, vowing to pull out my tried and true bootcut jeans tomorrow because that's what works best for my body shape.
But when the sun rises the next day, I still find myself reaching for the pair of pants that I know deep down in my heart aren't flattering. Like this time will somehow be different. Like today might finally be the day when my legs magically become longer and leaner.
Hmmm ... doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
Isn't that the definition of insanity?