One issue that crops up when one is losing weight is what to do about one’s wardrobe as it needs replacing. It’s hard to stomach the idea of buying clothes that are essentially disposable if you know that you’re only going to be in them for a few months. Or, worse, you think you’re going to wear something for a short time, so you buy a cheap something that’s just fine but not 100% great, but then you end up wearing that cheap something for a few years because your weight loss stagnates.
A few years ago, I lost enough weight that my jeans were too big. So much so, in fact, that they slid right off my butt right in the middle of Target. (Hellooooo Housewares! How YOU doin’?) Figuring that I’d have just as much luck losing weight and getting to the next size down, I picked up some cheap jeans while I was there at Target. They were far too long — like 4 inches — so I just rolled them up rather than walk the excess length off. Why bother having them hemmed if I’m just going to be passing them on to someone else at some point in the very near future, amiright?
You know where this is going, yes?
I hit a plateau not long after that, induced mostly by the winter of 2009-2010 when we got 60 inches of snow in two months and I apparently spent much of my time in between shoveling snow eating foods in the au gratin and bacon food groups.
So I regained some weight and the cheap temporary jeans didn’t fit, but then I lost the regained weight, so the cheap temporary jeans fit again, but I still never got around to having them hemmed. Because, again, I was going to lose that weight quickly, so there was no point.
So here we are in the fall of 2011. The jeans fit fine, but I’m back on a losing streak, so to speak, and I am again hoping the jeans will soon be too big for me. In the meantime, however, I need jeans that fit. What self respecting soccer mom doesn’t have jeans for Saturday games?
I pulled the far-too-long jeans out of the drawer and started wearing them. Only, they’re still too long, as fairies did not magically appear in my house and hem all pants that are too long. (Which is nearly all of one’s pants when one is 5′ 4″.)
And that excess length annoyed me and annoyed me and annoyed me and irritated me and got on my nerves and annoyed me more. Finally, two weeks ago, I’d had enough. I had cuffed and recuffed those jeans far too many times. And, much in the same way that a woman will grab her nail scissors at 10:00 one night and start hacking at her bangs in desperation, I grabbed bigger scissors and cut the excess length off my cheap temporary jeans.
(Only, there’s no way I’ll ever hack at my bangs with nail scissors or anything else because Richard the Hair God would kill me dead if I did something like that. At which point I’d have to I’d have to go into Witness Protection in order to hide from him and I’d up in some farming community in Idaho where I’d be the only blogger with fabulous accessories for a 13 county radius. So really it’s just best if I keep my cutting hands away from my hair.)
So where I am now is that I have jeans that are the correct length, but they’re cut off and fraying.
And this should be the point where I tell you that I’m embarrassed about my fraying jeans, but the fact is, I’m not. I simply don’t care. Because who’s going to give a crap about jeans that are worn to the soccer field or the grocery store or to pick up someone from fencing or take someone for a horseback riding lesson or to a casual lunch with a friend?
Well, okay, someone else might care, but I don’t.
What I am happy about is that the jeans are the correct effing length. Finally. After three years. It’s about damn time, I say. I should have cut them off years ago.
(Said jeans were worn yesterday with a fabulous navy blue henley from J. Crew that I got supermarkeddown, plus some red L.L. Bean driving mocs that were also supermarkeddown, as well as a fun scarf in bold colors of red, navy, golden yellow, and more.)
(What I’m saying is, there was no black involved with said outfit.)
Tell me I’m not alone in this. Who else has had a moment of utter desperation that might or might not have involved cutting jeans or hair or doing something else entirely?