This has been a long time coming. I’ve been putting off telling you, so I’m just going to be direct and get it off my chest. I thought I would feel horrible and guilty telling you this, but I feel a strange calm and happiness coming over me…
Jeans, I’m breaking up with you.
I remember the first time I decided to give you a shot. It was the summer before college, and all my girlfriends were raving about getting “designer” jeans. Not wanting to be the odd duck out, I saved up my paychecks to splurge on two pairs of you. I remember the anticipation, and the excitement.. which turned into frustration and pissed-offness after I tried on 50 pairs of you without finding the right fit. I finally did what any desperate girl would do- I settled. I settled for your NOT perfect fit and empty promises (Yes, Joe’s “curvy” Jeans I’m talking to YOU. Please enlighten me with your definition of “curvy”, because in my book, “curvy” doesn’t mean not being able to pull a pant leg over your thigh. FIGURE IT OUT, JOE’S).
6 years and hundreds and hundreds of dollars later, and not much has changed. I tried many of your kind, Jeans, but you were all the same. You just don’t understand me. You don’t appreciate all the hard work that goes into my body. Instead, you mock me with your constraints and uncomfortable cinching every time I sit down. You embarrassed me by making me do the awkward waddle dance every time before we went out. And, not gonna lie, you’re more high maintenance than I am. You REFUSE to adapt and insist on constantly being 12 inches too long, 5 inches too big on the waist, and attaching suction-cup-denim to my ass. You’re so stubborn, you make Pajama Jeans look appealing, and that’s not okay with me. I thought our multiple trips each month to the tailor would be beneficial for us both, but it turned out to be a huge waste of money and time.
The bottom line is, you’re not going to change, and neither am I. No matter how hard I work out, and how well I eat, my thighs are ALWAYS going to rub together, and that’s clearly something you just can’t get over. If I can get over it, you need to get over it. Grow up, Jeans. Another thing- my waist is always going to be smaller than my hips and my thighs. It’s called evolution. WHY IS THIS SO HARD FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND?
Oh Jeans, please, stop your blubbering. I know you’re going to miss this sweet ass, but you can’t act like this is a surprise. You can’t deny that things have been strained between us for a long time. The awkward air jumps, the squats and the lunges, the weird wiggle dance… You can’t tell me these moments were enjoyable for you. I feel like there’s been a large rip in our relationship, particularly in the upper-inner thigh region, and it’s just become too much for me to deal with.
I might as well tell you now in person before you hear it from someone else- I’ve moved on. Yes, I’m seeing someone else. His name is Spandex. I don’t want to upset you even more by telling you how perfect Spandex is, and how amazingly he fits into my life, so let’s just leave it at that.
I’d like to say it’s been a good run, Jeans, but its kind of sucked. We had some good moments, and I’ll probably give you a call for a night out on the town here and there, but don’t expect too much from me. Please stop by at your earliest convenience to remove your presence from my closet, and bank account.