Is there anything more humiliating than jeans shopping? No, I mean that honestly. Really. Because if there is, I have yet to endure it.
And I'm not talking about actually trying them on at the store. No. That's cool. I'm talking about trying them on for The Prince and then having to endure the, "Can I try them on?" Oh yes. This is what comes of living with a man whose waist is my hip size. Which means, since I like to wear them low, and I don't know, be able to BREATHE....my jean size. (And no we're not talking 32...he'd think blubber had landed on his back if he had to wear a 32.)
Either he starts eating more ice cream. Or I just stop eating.
And I'm not talking about actually trying them on at the store. No. That's cool. I'm talking about trying them on for The Prince and then having to endure the, "Can I try them on?" Oh yes. This is what comes of living with a man whose waist is my hip size. Which means, since I like to wear them low, and I don't know, be able to BREATHE....my jean size. (And no we're not talking 32...he'd think blubber had landed on his back if he had to wear a 32.)
Either he starts eating more ice cream. Or I just stop eating.
Comments
The only solution is to buy jeans that he wouldn't be seen dead in - like drainpipes, or huge flares.
On the other hand, it does mean you can steal his jeans too. Now THAT is cool.
I've always envied women who can wear their husband or boyfriend's jeans. Sadly as I have legs like a pit pony it is never likely to happen unless I start something romantic with a fellow shortie, like Prince or Tom Cruise.