Chirky

I went shopping for jeans this weekend, and oh: how I lament that decision. I hate shopping for jeans. I visited about eight different stores looking for some and NONE of them fit me. I'll have you know that I didn't try on just one style of jean at each store. I walked into each dressing room with somewhere between 3-8 different styles. That's a lot of jeans!!

I've discovered that there is only one acceptable female figure for jeans. I know this because even though the "styles" were different, they all fit the important parts of me exactly the same. Forget the bootcut, straight, or tapered leg openings. Forget the natural, low-rise, or ultra-low-rise waistlines. I'm more interested in how they look on my thighs, hips, and butt.

I affectionately call the predominant female figures "stick legs and no butt." Do you hear me, Levi? Do you hear me Gap? Do you hear me, jean designers?

My mom has stick legs (sorry to single you out, mom). My brother got my mom's body, in that he is thin and wiry (but very muscular). My dad, on the other hand, is stocky. Not short and stocky -- he's fairly tall and stocky. And I got HIS body. I can remember being four years old in my ballet class, wondering why most of the girls around me had skinny little legs, and I didn't. I've suffered with the stocky-leg-plight my entire life. And now, this weekend, I realized it again.

So, last night Roger and I went shopping one last time. We only went to only one store, a department store, and we had one goal: to try on jeans from the men's section. Lots of jeans. Many styles (which included "loose thigh, baggy thigh, slim thigh, etc. -- Why do only men get this option? Most of them don't even NEED it). I tried on several pairs that fit me both in the hip and in the thigh.

I was feeling pretty good, when Roger poked his head into the dressing room to console me: "Sweetie! You just have a man's body."