Blue Jeans Baby

Inspiration, it’s a wonderful thing. Thank you, Harvey!

Today at Bad Example, Harvey was talking about why he hates hip huggers and it reminded me of a story… of course. Before you read this story, however, you need to link on over there and see Harvey’s pictures about what he thinks about a woman in jeans…what he sees with waist high vs. hip huggers. Cracks me up and I think my husband is on the same plane.

Now let me make it clear to you men, if you ever voluntarily say something derogatory about your female companion/wife/girlfriend’s body or face, it will get filed away in her mental rolodex… forever. You can back peddle all you want, you can send flowers, you can tell her how much you love her and appreciate her, every day for the rest of your lives, but she will always remember. Forever. And she may NEVER bring it up, but it is in her mind. And if you are to die… and she meets someone else, it is still there, because now it is officially… baggage. So just never blurt out that you think her ass is too big, her thighs look nasty or you hate her hair. Bad, bad, bad. Lesson over.

In April, my sister was down to visit. She likes to get me to update my wardrobe, so we went shopping. I have a terrible time finding jeans that fit properly, I prefer straight leg old fashioned jeans, but she swore I should try some low rider jeans from The Gap, some that flare at the bottom. Sure enough, they fit. And boy, they are comfortable! Better yet, they make me seem taller because of that flare at the bottom and how lean the thighs are cut. (I have runners legs and it accentuates them.) Now, I can’t do hip huggers. I don’t have the bod and quite frankly, most of the women I see wearing hip huggers… just shouldn’t. They must not own mirrors. Even with my low rider jeans, yes, I bought a pair, I still wear my shirts big or out. I don’t have a great bod and my abs are shot.

The following week, after she left, my folks were down. The Great Omnipotent One, my Better Half, and I were in the kitchen getting supper ready. I was wearing my new jeans and a t-shirt, my favorite comfortable get up. My Better Half looks at me and says something very much like, “Those jeans really don’t look good on you.” It was voluntarily derogatory or so it seemed. I looked at him and TGOO is saying nothing. There was silence. If I could read TGOO’s mind, a man who has been married to my Mother for 40+ years, he was probably thinking, “Oh shit. I can’t believe he just did that… he should know better.”

There is silence and I am of course immediately angry/hurt/defensive and I say something like, “Oh really? Well, I happen to like them. They are comfortable.” , because of course the implication to me was that they must make me look fat.

TGOO is silent, knowing damn well a full war is about to break out in my kitchen.

My Better Half says, “Well, it’s not that I don’t really like them, it’s just they don’t look that great on you. You have a better body than they let show. They don’t flatter your figure.”

I’m caught off guard now and say, “Really?” and he replies, “Yeah, really. They aren’t tight enough. They sag in the butt. They need to be tighter.”

TGOO starts to laugh and says, “OHHH! You like her in TIGHT jeans.”

And I know he was very serious. He likes me in my tight jeans, even though the waist isn’t cinched in enough for me. So now, it was not a derogatory comment, but rather a very nice compliment running on that hairy edge… damn fine edge of disaster!