Shopping for Jeans

I hate clothes shopping. Despite what every media outlet screaming in my face tells me, shopping for clothes is not a fun and enjoyable experience. I don’t like to meet my friends for shopping, I prefer to visit with them over lunch or a playdate. I hate looking through sales ads for bargains, and since I’m not aware of what’s on discount, I never get one. If I have an article of clothing (or a pair of shoes) that I like, then I wear it until it becomes threadbare and falls off my body. I’m the woman who still has her grunge era Doc Martens in her closet.

I was recently faced with having to shop when after a 15 lb. weight loss, the jeans I owned no longer fit. Some would say this is a cause for celebration, and although I’m happier about being closer to my ultimate goal of looking good naked again, the downside is that I have to find new jeans. The jeans that I had been wearing were two years old. I bought them after I had Rachael. I have pre-pregnancy jeans sitting in my closet waiting to be worn again, but I’m not at that stage yet. I thought about just getting a belt and cinching the large jeans at the waist or letting them ride low on my hips until I could fit into the smaller ones, but that would just make me look like one of those hip hop wannabe kids I see at the mall with their pants hanging pathetically off their asses. I arrive at the sad conclusion that I will have to venture out to a commercial retail establishment and make a purchase.

Five minutes after entering the mall, I realize that I have two major things going against me as a shopper: I am only 5’ tall, and I’m 32 years old. Seattle is a very ethnically diverse area, and has an enormous Asian population, so why is it that every pair of pants seems to be made for chicks over 6’ tall? Not only do I have to shell out money for the pants, but also have to take them to an alterations shop and have them hemmed. Normally I would do it myself, but I took sewing in the 7th grade and learned that I was incapable of correctly threading the sewing machine bobbin and had absolutely no control over the foot peddle.

I am also bugged by the fact that all of the clothes offered at major retail seem to be made for teenagers or women in their 50s. Our society is constantly telling women that the best age to be is 16, and I’m not sure why. At 16, I was barely able to drive, still stuck in high school, had minimal income from a crappy part-time job, and was basically a naïve idiot with big hair who obsessed over boys. Why is this age suddenly the gold standard? Oh yeah, it’s because 16 year old girls are old enough to put out, but young enough to be baffled by the bullshit that less intelligent men want to feed them. Thank you Brittney Spears! Conversely, I find it equally strange that the more mature casual clothing consists of outfits that my mother wouldn’t be caught dead in. Is anyone making fashionable garments for women in their 30s? The ones who don’t want to look like their mothers or their teenage babysitters?

I take a moment to clear my head remembering that my objective on this particular outing is not to analyze society’s fucked up priorities and stereotypes, but to find a pair of well-made jeans that will accommodate my ass. That is yet another great challenge: my ass. I am Italian and Jewish, neither which is known for producing flat-assed females. If I were to magically wake up weighing 20 lbs. tomorrow, I guarantee that 15 of it would be in ass. Thankfully, on a lazy Thursday, while lounging on the couch, I tuned into an episode of Oprah where she talked about Apple Bottoms jeans. These are black girl jeans; made by a clothing house run by a black guy (Nelly), designed by black designers for black women, which means that instead of the jeans flattening the ass like spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread, they are cut to accommodate the extra ass, so greatly celebrated by the very rap star who runs the clothing label. I decided to try on the graciously cut Apple Bottoms and once again, Oprah was right! These are amazing jeans. After a lifetime of trying to fit my round tuchas into flat, WASPy jeans, I finally found a comfortable pair made for girls like me. In these jeans, my butt, though not as small as I want it to be, actually looks good. Way to go Nelly!

I walk to the alterations shop to have at least six inches cut off the legs, and smile about my oddly positive shopping experience. However, one favorable consumption trip still doesn’t erase my loathing of the clothes shopping experience. I take comfort in the fact that these jeans seem pretty sturdy, and will make it possible for me to postpone my next shopping trip for at least another two years.