Splittin’ the Seams

The woes of a 38 year old shopping in an 18 year old world…

I consider myself a comfortable and functional kind of shopper, and I highly dislike shopping for jeans; not nearly as much as bathing suits, but it definitely ranks right up there with waxing your lip, doing dishes, and paying taxes.  However, I do occasionally have to buy them, so I prefer to do my shopping at stores that sell clothing, tack, dog food, boots, feed, and beer (you know…one-stop shop).  That means the selection tends to lean toward functional. Until lately…

Recently, I was in my favorite store, and a bedazzled pair of ripped-out jeans caught my eye.  I thought, “What on earth possesses a woman to want to draw attention to her posterior with gothic crosses and sparkles?”  But after further perusing, I quickly deduced that this design was the only choice I had.  So, I grabbed a pair and headed to the dressing room, all the while my stomach turning at the sight of the price tag. In the dressing room, I stepped out of my duds, and pulled on the pants. Well, I tried to pull on the pants.  Now, I know that fat tends to rearrange itself from time to time, and I possibly ate ice cream the night before, drank a beer, and had sour cream on my potato, but I refused to blame my gluttony on the fact the pants were snug. I had the right size, right?  Tug. Pull. Squat. Suck it in. Wow, who knew it could be such a workout trying on jeans?  Upon searching for the button and zipper, (it was there somewhere) it came to mind that the backside felt a touch “drafty”. The tag listed these as “low rise”, which clearly meant that everyone else would get to see the moon rise. Not only were they “low rise”, they were tight AND sparkly, and created something resembling a “muffin top” out of my midsection. In fact, the idea of removing these pants quickly brought to mind opening a can of Pillsbury buttermilk biscuits. You know, the loud pop sound you get when you beat the tube against the counter?  Yeah… It wasn’t going to be pretty. Clearly it would require just as much effort to remove these jeans as putting them on did.

Well, I couldn’t get out of them fast enough! I was reminded this is exactly the reason why I don’t like shopping for any sort of clothing in this day and age. I might not be in style, or be gracing the cover of Vogue any time soon, but the last time I checked, my horse didn’t care what I wore to the barn.

Happy trails and happy shopping…May you ladies be far more successful than I was!