Of Torn Jeans and Prom Dresses

Today at the library, I squatted down to put the books in the return slot and heard that ominous noise that no one ever likes to hear: the sound of pants ripping. Ugh. I grabbed my inner thigh (which was an interesting thing to do in public), felt the hole and wanted to cry. My only other pants were wet and hanging in basement.

I made the command decision to go to JC Penney and look for a new pair of jeans. I HATE most of the jeans out there. Remember back about fifteen years ago, when jeans actually went up to your waist and had normal sized legs? Not flares, not pegged, not boot cut... just a regular looking jean.

Do you know how hard it is to find these?? I was unable to find even one pair today and can only hope that my damp jeans will be dry by tomorrow -- despite being in the basement and the outdoor temp reaching a high of about 37. Woo. Hoo. Heat wave.

Anyway, as I made my way to the jeans section in JCP, I crossed through the formal dresses. My DD was mesmerized -- she is such a girly girl and wears dresses 90% of the time, but especially loves fancy "princess" type dresses (darn Cinderella). She ooohed and aahhed for several minutes before she could be dragged away. We walked back through them on the way out (bad planning on my part) and she decided that she wanted one.

"Where would you wear it?" I asked.

She responded without hesitation. "To the ball."

Of course. The ball. Why did I even ask?

Now if I could ever succeed in my Quest for Normal Jeans. I mean, do women not realize how HUGE your hips look in flares? Look in the mirror people. It's your fault that I can't find regular jeans. Just. Stop. It.

Stop falling prey to designers and their size three models.

Stop.

I'm begging you.