Skinny Jeans

My wife is the catalyst behind many things, one being my jean purchases. “You should get yourself some new jeans,” she’ll remind me. “Don’t buy a baggy pair. No ‘relaxed fit’. You’re slim and they hang off your butt,” she’ll add with a loving smile.

The last time I needed jeans we went to The Gap. I immediately began pawing through the shelves. I was looking for 32 W 34 L, and if my wife hadn’t come along, I would have gone to the counter and bought them without going near a change room.

She held up her hand, “You should try them on.”

I turned, my head low like a dog that just stole a pork chop off the counter.

“Come out when you have them on,” she said, smiling, again.

I followed orders and put a pair on. I stepped out into the hallway, tags hanging, my socks bunched up.

“What style are those?” My wife nodded slowly. “They look nice.”

“They’re ‘slim fit’. I’ll get two.” I jumped back into the little room anticipating my old worn-in pair back on myself where they should be.

“Try these.” Another pair of jeans flopped over the door.

“All right,” I said and pulled them on. “They feel tight.”

“Let’s see,” she said.

I stepped out again. I didn’t bother with the mirror.

My wife nodded. “Those look fabulous.”

I sighed and returned to change. I slipped off the pants and noticed the waistline. The words ‘Skinny Jeans’ were stamped in white letters. “These are ‘kids pants,” I yelled loud enough for everyone in the mall to hear.

We left the store with one slim fit pair and one skinny pair. A compromise by definition. That was four months ago.

I wear the skinny jeans whenever the others are in the wash. The skinny jeans actually feel fine, maybe they stretched. I’ve even worn them while drumming at gigs and was quite comfortable.

Last week, the other pair, the slim fit pair (not as skinny as skinny) developed a small hole in the right knee, the beginning of the end. I silently cursed my nine-year-old son for all the wrestling and anything else we do that sends me crashing down on my knees.

I slipped into another jean store on Friday (a place that has its own Baby Boomer implications) and looked through the shelves. I found slim fit but they were so pre-faded I figured they had about one more wash before the knees went. Plus, the super-light blue reminded me of painter pants, which I never liked even back in the day.

Many of the jeans at this store were wider than they were long, like giant Charlie Brown shorts. I left still wearing my only pair.

I suppose I’ll have to ask my wife for help.

Photo Credit

Jeans – Wikipedia Public Domain

Guest Author Bio

Jeffrey Griffiths
Jeffrey Griffiths lives in Hamilton Ontario with his lovely wife and two fabulous kids. He teaches Creative Writing at Mohawk College. His writing has appeared in various literary journals, magazines, and of course ‘Life as a Human’.

Blog / Website: http://affectsoftv.blogspot.ca/

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