In The Fitting Room

I'm in an awkward in-between stage in my body size. The jeans I do fit are also in less than fine shape. One pair has a hole on the inside of one leg, and the other pair has a belt loop that was partially ripped off when I tried to squeeze my fat ass into those jeans while I was not really fitting those jeans. Rather than rip off more belt loops for my smaller jeans or swimming in jeans that are too big, I went shopping for new jeans.

Of all things in the world I hate trying on, jeans are number one. I am a freak of nature, because nothing I try on fits me, except the style of jeans I most hate. I have that previously mentioned fat ass as well as fat thighs. In jeans, that also translates as fat waist, but I don't have a fat waist. It's not a tiny, little waist, but it's obviously smaller than what seems to be considered the norm.

I tried on four pair of jeans last night. All but one had a three inch gap between the waistband and the back of my waist. I could carry my purse in the gaping hole that was back there. While convenient as that may sound, it's not something I prefer in a pair of jeans. Every time I looked at that floppy flap of fabric back there, I asked myself, "Am I that abnormal?" I even went out and showed John how badly one pair fit, he was a bit surprised too if I'm translating his lack of expression correctly.

I was even in the Misses department. I wasn't even trying to pretend I was a young, skinny woman who hasn't bore two children. I was realistic. I didn't pick up sizes smaller than I know I am. I took my size and even a size bigger into the dressing room with me. I tried on "relaxed fit" jeans rather than the "slim fit" ones. After all that, I still can't get a pair of jeans that fit me. It is no fun to go in with a fairly good attitude and concede I'm not the shape I wish I was only to find I'm a pear in an apple-shaped world.

I came home with one pair of jeans. They still have a small gap in back, but it's tolerable. I don't look like a clown who catches flying objects in her wide-waisted pants for entertainment. They weren't exactly the style of pants I wanted, but at least they weren't tapered. I hate tapered leg jeans, because they accentuate my overabundance of hips, thighs and ass. Of course, it's usually the horrible tapered leg jeans that fit me without leaving a very large cave, and I have resorted to buying them out of sheer frustration.

I hate my body enough as it is. Why does this have to happen? Why can't there be jeans and pants that fit me and look cute too? It's the cry of women everywhere, I know. Then why do custom fit Levi's cost so damn much? We deserve that much. We deserve pants that fit without paying in limbs and children.

The most unfortunate thing is I'm not done. I still need a second pair of jeans. I don't do laundry regularly enough to get by with one pair, so I'm going out again today to torture myself some more. And I won't even start on those damn mirrors.

My dog is wagging her tail in her sleep. How cute is that?