MOVarazzi

Thursday, February 9, 2012

659. The Conspiracy Continues

The cleanser, the skirt, the car—where does it end? Today, the jeans.

I put on my black sweatshirt and wiggled into my favorite pair of jeans. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice.

“I see London, I see France …” chirped The Husband, having most likely learned the song from our two elementary-aged sons.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, as I discreetly checked that my zipper was up.

“You have a hole in the back of your jeans, wait—turn around. Make that two holes.”

I put my hand to the back of my jeans near the pockets and I felt the holes in question.

“Not a big deal,” I shrugged, “that’s the style with jeans.” I reached in the cabinet and got out the cereal for Tall and Short.

“Mommy, you can’t wear those!” squealed Short as he bounded into the kitchen. “I can see your undies! They’re white.”

Now I began to panic. If both The Husband and Short noticed the holes, they must really be obvious.

In the space of merely a few short weeks, I was feeling betrayed yet again. How dare my favorite comfy jeans go and die? I had only had them for about five years, and they had been expensive: they set me back about $39 at the Gap. They had always done their part: kept me covered, kept me warm, and kept me from having to go jeans shopping for another pair.

It wasn’t the money or the time that was an issue: I was dreading the actual trying-things-on part of the jeans equation.

After The Husband left for work and the kids went to school, I put on my khaki pants (which did not look as good as the jeans and sweatshirt combo) and drove to Nordstrom. I hesitated to walk in, after what happened last week (come back and read THAT STORY in a sec), but thankfully no one recognized me. I tried on approximately 957 pairs of jeans—none of them fit. I started with what I knew to be my size (10). Their 10’s were cut way too small. I had to switch to the wrong size, 12, which did fit, barely. They were not flattering. And they were $200 each. After trying on all 957 pairs, crying for half an hour, washing my face in the ladies’ room, and getting a free cappuccino, I went to Talbot’s.

Talbot’s was even worse. Every pair of jeans was low-waisted, which is not a good look for me. Next up, Macy’s. The day progressed from bad to worse. Although Macy’s jeans were well-priced (most pairs under $50, on sale), nothing fit well. I was so upset by the shape of things, I didn’t know if I should go run five miles or drown my sorrows in an ice-cream sundae.

I think we know by now which one I chose.

After lunch, I decided to go to my old standby, Target. I was getting depressed and despondent; I hoped that Target would know how to fix my mood. I ended up trying on just six pairs of jeans, all of them men’s. Why had I not thought of this before? The men’s jeans were cut higher, and one glorious pair actually fit me.

I looked at the price, and could not believe what my eyes were telling my brain: $19. Less than a large pizza, which was sounding unbelievably appealing right now.

I folded up the pair and walked up to the register to buy them. The checker scanned the jeans. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” she said sympathetically, “these jeans are mismarked. They are not $19. They are on sale for $12. Sorry for the confusion.” I wanted to kiss her.

But, just at that precise moment when I thought my bad luck spree was finally over, she had to go and say something so incredibly mean and bitchy, something that made me seriously question if I can ever shop at this particular Target again: “I love that you’re buying oversized men’s jeans instead of maternity.  A lot of pregnant women do that nowadays.” 

MOV

13 comments:

  1. Wow! So you got another $1.20 off!!!

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    1. Hi, I am participating in the A to Z challenge and looking for fun blogs to follow. I was not able to find a "Comment" button except for here, under Esboston's thread. ALso Blogger will delete everything I type here, so I will copy what I already typed, then right click and then choose: "show this frame only" and then paste into the new window. Seriously, this is a pain in the butt.
      but speaking of butts, can't you patch those Jeans you love so much? There are all kinds of cool patches to be had! I have the same trouble as you. I don't even bother buying jeans new, because they inevitably shrink and don't fit even if they are supposedly preshrunk. I go to goodwill or salvation army, and usually find something I like, and yes, sometimes, that is on the Men's rack.

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    2. hi Mimi! so glad you discovered my blog. I will look for you on the A to Z challenge. I have already written essays for 3 letters, because I am a Virgo and Virgos are not good at procrastination. :)

      I guess the jeans could be patched. But then people might notice the patches (and notice my butt) and that can't be good..........

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  2. Ha! Note to clerks everywhere: unless a woman specifically mentions the senior citizen discount...do NOT bring it up. Just hang a sign right next to the cash and let them ask for it.

    You know what really makes me happy? Getting carded at the liquor store. That hasn't happened in years and years.

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    1. oh, have not been carded at the liquor store in years. Instead of saying, "May I see your ID, miss?" they now say, "Oh, you again? Weren't you just in here yesterday? do you want to join our frequent buyers' club?"

      ha!

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  3. Asking for a senior ID is almost as bad as asking a woman if she's pregnant. You'd better be pretty darn sure of the answer!

    I've been wanting to tell you a story about holes in jeans -- several years ago my husband and I went to Atlanta to see U2 in concert. We invited my dear college friend and her sister to come along. We all merrily went to the arena where the show was to be held and as we are walking up the steps to our seats my husband noticed something odd about my friend's sister's pants. It seems that they were ripped -- completely ripped -- right under each cheek. I mean, no room for error kind of ripped. Being the sweet guy he is, my husband "assumed" she had on flesh-colored underpants. Alas, 'twas not the case. (She was wearing thong underwear.) Instead of making a huge ta-do about it, he sweetly took off his sweatshirt and let her tie it around her waist.

    Let that be a lesson to us all. (You can take whatever lesson you like from this tale.)

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    1. couse, love this story. and the lesson is: marry a guy like couse's husband-- someone nice and someone who also carries an extra sweatshirt for things like this.

      xxo
      MOV

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    2. and ps--changed the ending to my story because of you, your idea was better. :) re-read the last paragraph if you have time.

      thanks!

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    3. Oh mercy me! I am honored. *blushes*

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  4. You are loyal to your clothing. I know that feeling! We all have our good ol' standbys. Our articles that have just fit perfect, and stayed true to us over the years. I will think good thoughts for you and cross my fingers that no more articles of clothing betray you.
    I have that problem with shoes. I am not a shoe shopper, so once I find a comfy pair, we are inseparable. So when a strap breaks, or a heel gets scuffed when I trip down the cement stairs at work, it sends me into a tailspin of shoe sadness!
    Target- What would we do without it?

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    1. ha! glad you can relate. And I seem to take it as a personal affront, like the jeans got mad at me one day and decided to rebel.............

      (so sorry about your tailspin of shoe sadness)

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  5. Forget jeans - I gave up on them completely. Thank goodness I've got two small children and the only place I go is school. No one seems to expect me to wear real clothes anyway. Actually, that's kind of sad. Maybe I need to go shopping. :\

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    1. we can shop together. at Target. Then at Baskin-Robbins like God and chocolate intended.

      xxo
      MOV

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When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)