shopping for new jeans slides right in between shoe shopping and grocery shopping as my second most unfavorite kind of shopping to do on the face of the earth.

it’s during jeans shopping when my extraordinary genes and overweightedness come and smack me right in the face. a double-whammy that has often left me curled in the middle of my bed crying while i vow to start a strict diet and exercise regime and curse my freakishly tall parents for mating and having a girl.

jean shopping, i must admit, has gotten better as i’ve grown older. mostly because i don’t care so much. but whenever i step into that fitting room, i’m back to being that 6’3″ 15-year-old who, with tears in her eyes, tries on eighteen different pairs of pants only to have them be too short and/or too tight. it was horrible and i spent most of my teenage-hood in shorts, they seemed to work ok.

now, as a 6’5″ adult, who is much too embarrased to show off these legs, i only buy jeans about once a year. i just wear them until they fall apart. now, i’m set again for another year and i couldn’t be more relieved.