Friday, March 27, 2009

Like Sex, Not Shame

I got dressed this morning in my jeans, the cute ones with the butterflies on the butt, and then slid, cross-legged, into the best office chair ever invented.

Then it happened.

The rather disconcerting feeling, almost like your new nylons splitting along your leg.

My lovely jeans, arguably more nylon than denim, had ripped across the thigh as the flesh pushed against it.

I'm telling you all this, feeling like I should be ashamed to be publicly admitting to be so fat that my clothes have torn themselves from me in protest of my mass.

I might feel more shame if these were sturdy jeans, crafted thick for work or, you know, wearing. But these jeans, no matter how lovely, were made the way some manufacturers make fat girl clothes.

Thin, stretchy as a bathing suit, almost like a pair of overdeveloped leggings.

And it's hard to feel like I should be ashamed for wearing such a "small" size, when they regularly attempted to slide off my ass and make a break for the floor and, presumably, freedom.

What was most unfortunate is that I had been lax about laundry.

I was wearing these jeans, you see, so what need had I for other clean pants?


I dragged out my (yes, clean) favorite jeans and tossed them in the dryer for some wrinkle care.

I love these jeans.

My uniform of choice those last months of Hell.

The jeans I wore to the bar over the summer months, when I was so happy that I could get them over my hips without unbuttoning them. Once one reaches a certain point of inebriation, the less steps the better when covering one's self back up.

Sure, I may take gleeful pride in the fat-phobic audacity of wearing plumage hued lace thongs, but that doesn't mean I think the entire bar needs to see them up close & personal.

They are so comfortable and so lovingly worn that they feel like being naked.

They feel like sex.

These jeans are so visibly worn that the advisability of wearing them in public has surely diminished significantly.

Regardless, I will be dressing them up this evening with my black, heeled boots and a nice blouse and wearing them to go out on the town with my wife and our friends.

Because it's hard to argue with a pair of pants that feel like sex.

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