Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Particular Sadness of Skinny Jeans
Skinny jeans and I have never had a strong friendship. They certainly weren't my friend today. I have worn them, yes. But as a former fat girl (and occasional pudgy girl), I have always been a little suspicious of their motives. When I found my perfect pair at H&M years ago, I thought they were okay. I would never be able to scale a wall or pull crazy action moves in them . . . but who needs to do that sort of stuff? At $20, I didn't have to hesitate. (My jeans are either stupidly expensive and crazy cheap, never mid-range and I don't know why this is).
Numerous denim ankle stranglers later and wearing an offending mint green Uniqlo pair today, I found myself hopelessly locked out of my house. I could have gone to my parents and waited for my roommate to return from the vineyard she was visiting but I had important things to do.
I made up my mind. I was going to scale the wall to my back yard. Next I was going to hoist myself up on our garden shed. I would complete the move with climbing up to my balcony and letting myself in through my roommates window. Parkour be damned! This is the real deal. I executed the majority of this perfectly, thus shocking myself and celebrating too early with a "not too bad, old girl" mutter (high school gymnastics was good for something). Then came the final move. The balcony catapult.
I attempted to put my leg up. Halted. I tried again. It wasn't going to work. Apparently Uniqlo's denim is super strong and the odds of me hoisting my leg higher than a 45 degree angle were slim to none. Over and over again, I attempted to get a leg up on the ledge. Only to find each time that it wasn't going to happen. I sighed loudly. I was stuck on the roof of the garden shed with no way down. I was still locked out. There was no solution . . . but to take off my jeans. Looking both ways, I waited for various walkers and nature dwellers to pass my house (I live in a wooded area with many paths). When the coast was clear, I peeled the jeans off, threw them over my shoulder and climbed up the side of the house like it ain't no thing. I cursed myself for wearing attention grabbing striped underwear today. Once on the balcony, I scampered inside quickly and looked down at my pantless legs to laugh at myself. Did I really just climb up my balcony with no pants on?
And that concludes my buying of tight, skinny jeans. They're like a fire hazard . . . or something.
(Photo: Madewell, who has a variety of different types of denim, for those who won't buy skinny anymore).