Do you want to know what I did yesterday?
It’s very sad, and you should know that before you read any further.
I went to try on my fat jeans and they didn’t fit. You speak fat jeans? They always forgive you. You wear them camping one night with hiking boots, and the next night to the theater with heels. They are your favorite friends and you can’t wait to put them on after you waited for a couple days from the last wear.
They are nothing like your skinny jeans which require a slather of Vaseline, a prayer and a disgusting grunt. Fat jeans are always a bit roomy (not too much). You stretch, they stretch. It’s eternally expanding joy and love beyond all fashionistic expression.
Then one day, (as with me yesterday,) you put them on and something is not right. Did I just wash these? you wonder. Is it the changing of the temperature having a negative affect on the cotton? And the last thing you want to admit to yourself in that situation is that you’ve gained the weighty. You’re fatter. It is likely divorce from your denim.
I blame that wicked and oh-so-gone-awry institution by the name of Girls Camp.
I took my fat jeans to Girls Camp because a woman needs to have some security in that place. I was sporting them on day uno. By day cinco I put them on again and loathe and behold they did not fit as well. (I hope dear readers you understand a little Spanish. If not, uno translates to…what do I care now that I’ve gained poundage? What a world! What a world!)
After Girls Camp it was too hot to be sporting the fat jeans and so I put them away. Perhaps they are upset that I would deny them usage on the account of the season? Anyway, it wasn’t until yesterday that I was assured that my daily sweating down the spine of my back wasn’t going to occur so I dressed a little warmer.
I recall dos times yesterday when I leaned over and had the wind knocked out of me.
The top button was working so hard to keep the zipper zipped it actually had a little button grimace on its face.
I couldn’t weight (that is a pun) to get home and get them off my body, fling them across the room and put on my righteous muumuu.
Seriously, the fat jeans and I are breaking up.
But before I send the jeans packing en route to Deseret Industries Happy Land When You Are Poor Or You Like A Good Bargain Although It’s Getting More Expensive With Inflation Vintage Clothes Are So In Right Now, we are going to go to therapy. Couples therapy. And I am going to learn that 3 things work in maintaining weight: daily exercise for your body, daily serious scripture study for your mind, and daily meditation/prayer for your soul. It’s so easy and yet…
Can you tell I’ve been through a couple clothes (second pun) break-ups before?
Making-up is so worth it.