So, yesterday I told you all about my destructive jeans behavior.
Which was a precursor to telling you about having to get some new jeans, because I had none. Zero. The very last pair, of any size, busted open this past weekend.
Having no jeans to wear would mean too many instances of tights. Or certain doom.
So I walked to the Levi’s store on a lunch break this week.
I picked out a pair of jeans, mostly based on the color, and grabbed it in 3 different sizes. After trying them on, I handed the 2 smaller ones to an enthusiastic fellow named Deon, and told him I was going to take the 3rd pair.
He glances at the label on what I’ve picked, grabs my wrist and says “Oh, no. These are not for you. I’m going to find you the right pair.”
You probably know that they’ve got this whole Curve ID thing going on now, where they’ve got 4 different styles of jeans made to fit different body types. And by different, they mean differing waist to hip ratios.
Deon put his hands on my waist and made me lean from side to side, I think to assess my love handles.
And then he did some measuring business and scurried off to get more appropriate jeans.
He sent me into the dressing room to try several more pairs, insisting that I come out after each one for him to consider.
I was made to turn around so that he and a coworker girl could check out my lumpy rumpus.
I told him that I thought the skinny jeans accentuated my hips too much and he cried with glee “you shouldn’t try to hide your curves! we should celebrate them!”
Oh, Deon. Where on earth do you think I could hide all this?
But eventually, I had a pair that was deemed acceptable by all parties.
I think they look pretty much like the first pair that I had picked out myself. Except that these were a waist size smaller, so that’s nice.
So, the Levi’s Curve ID thing?
They’re not the best. jeans. evar. But they fit and I’m mostly sure my ass crack is covered.