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.
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