almost pantsless

Tonight Larry and I went to Hell the mall to go jeans shopping.

There was much sighing, complaining, and perhaps some whining.

You might be surprised to know that the sighing, complaining, and whining was coming from me. I hate the mall and I hate shopping there. But I realized I was down to owning only one pair of properly fitting pants (besides yoga pants, pajama pants, or any other sort of elastic-waisted pants that shall not been seen in public). Since these jeans are my only properly fitting pair of pants, I wear them all the time. They're getting ratty and they're in that near perfect super-soft stage in their lifespan where you know it's only a matter of time before they rip. And being that they are the only pair of properly fitting pants I own - how would I go to the store to buy a replacement pair if I were pantsless? I'm pretty sure that shopping without pants is frowned upon at Tysons Corner Center.

So the dreaded trip to Hell the mall was necessary. It was down to the eleventh hour really since once Black Friday kicks off Christmas shopping season I refuse to set foot in Hell the mall. And I hated every second of it. I hate trying on pair after pair of over-priced jeans. What the heck are Demi-Curve, Bold-Curve, Chimney, and High-Riser? Hell, it didn't matter what style they were - they were all either too long, too short, too wedgie-inducing, and most-likely, too tight.

Also, why is there no booze at the Denim Bar?

Anyway, I want to slap the bitches who wear "skinny skinny" jeans. (Seriously, that's a thing. You know, in case the plain ol' skinny jeans just aren't quite skinny enough.) And why weren't skinny jeans in fashion back when I was actually skinny? (Nooo, I had to be skinny back when grunge was cool.)

Skinny jeans do not work for people who are not skinny. Like me. In fact, I think the jeans styles available today should be more appropriately named Spare Tire, Camel Toe, Muffin Top, and Butt Crack. Because seriously, when I put them on, that is what's going to be hanging out. (Perhaps I should stop eating so many donuts?)

Anyway, I tried on approximately four dozen pairs of jeans. I bought four of them. None of them really fit properly. I'll probably return a few and plan to hem some of the others. And by that, I mean, I will stuff them in the back of my closet and find them months later with the tags still on, unhemmed, still too long, and probably even tighter than they were before.

Larry tried on ONE pair of jeans. He bought them.

So I'm really no better off than I was before - perhaps worse off, since I'm now poorer. Please, old jeans, I beg you - don't rip!

Despite all these frustrations, Larry remained cheerful as he dragged me from store to store, suggesting shops to look into - even if he'd never heard of them. ("Seriously, Larry, do I look like the kind of girl who could get away with wearing something from a store called Diesel?")

He even got me to crack a smile a couple of times with a few of his comments:

At Ann Taylor Loft:

Larry: I'm the only person with testicles in this entire store!
< Looks around, spies baby of questionable gender. >
Larry: Well, perhaps there might be some little testicles over there.


Outside of Madewell:

Larry: How about this store? Madewell?
Me: They're owned by J.Crew.
Larry: So?
Me: J.Crew clothes never fit me. Haven't you ever seen the models in the catalog? Their clothes are made for flat-chested girls.
Larry: Well, maybe that's why this store is called Madewell! Because it's for chicks who are MADE WELL. MADE WITH BOOBIES!

(Note: I did end up buying a pair of Madewell jeans. I can't tell you if their tops fit any differently than J.Crew tops since luckily my boobs don't need to fit into my jeans. Also, they might be borderline skinny jeans. I'm still not sure about them, but I wanted something I could wear with boots. Tell me, People-Who-Wear-Boots-Over-Jeans, how do you keep your pants from bunching up in your boots? Is there some sort of trick to this or are you all secretly wearing stirrup pants?)