The Curse of the Low Rise Jeans

 I. Hate. Jeans.

Why? They don't fit!  Never.  Ever.  Regardless of the size, or brand, or cuteness factor.  

  

I didn't used to feel this way, but since the introduction of the Low Rise Jean, I have suffered with ill-fitting jeans and have a completely incurable case of  "Jeans Envy".   

Everywhere I go, I see other women in the cutest jeans!   And they appear to fit. They look comfortable.  But, more importantly, they do not seem to be CONSTANTLY falling down their backside!  These women can walk down the street, laden with children, purses, cell phones, coffee cups never once having to think about their pants. And never worrying about juggling said possessions so they can "adjust."

I, on the other hand, always need a free hand.  Heck, I could use a third hand, just for this purpose!  A hand ready to grab onto my belt loop and give a quick tug.  And I am always wondering, WHEN are they going to start to slip?  When is it going to appear that my crotch has dropped to my knees?    

  

And I wonder; am I the only woman who suffers from this syndrome?  Why is it I can't seem to find ONE pair that fits me?  

Some of my failed purchases :(

Before the Low Rise Revolution, I could easily walk into The Gap (oh how I miss their old Boot Cut Jean) and purchase a pair in size 4 and feel completely confident that they would fit--and look good.  I wouldn't even have to try them on.  We knew each other that well.     

Or, I could buy a pair of Levis 501s.  The Original.  (I realize I am dating myself by admitting this)  I didn't even mind all those buttons!  They could be ripped open pretty darn quick, if you needed them too.  You know, if you had to pee really bad or something :)     

So why is it these jeans from yesteryear worked so well for me, while today's trends do not?  I mean 501s were essentially, men's jeans, and, even they worked!  

Perhaps that's why:  I am not womanly enough.  Maybe it's not the jeans.  Maybe it's me; my stick-straight, built like a boy body.  Oh to have curves!  

Or perhaps it is BECAUSE I am a woman, that I suffer so?  I mean, honestly, low rise jeans really only work on women girls who have not yet reached puberty or gained an ounce of post-pregnancy baby fat. Right?   

I admit I am considered thin.  However,  I have given birth to two children and, subsequently, have a slight layer of fat around my middle.  Just below my belly button and just above the tops of my pants; which the low rise jeans do absolutely nothing to minimize.  Instead, they seem to provide a shelf, if you will, for said layer to rest upon.  Or droop over, when I no longer have the energy to "suck it in."  

Despite my condition, inevitably, I try again. I carry my haul into the dressing room and try on every pair in my size.  Okay, not true;  not the expensive ones.  I am frugal in the clothing department.  I mean,  I'm not going to pay $75 dollars OR MORE for a pair of pants that aren't even going to stay up!

Then I go through the motions:  

I check them out from all sides and angles.  

I bend over.

I squat down.

I twist.  

Then I Thank God no one can see me.

And, once in a while, I hit gold!   

My New Pair!

Then, glowing with pride, I take my purchase to the cash register.  And I smile all the way home, where I wear them around the house;  making dinner, vacuuming, just to prove to myself that they really do fit.  And they do!

Until the next day.  By then, they have stretched out JUST ENOUGH.  And as I bend over, to sweep up the day's worth of dirt and dog hair from my kitchen floor, I feel that all too familiar cool breeze blowing down yonder.  And I  realize, yet again, I have failed.

Oh just put on a belt you say.  You do not know me.  Just as I hate jeans.  I DO NOT accessorize.  I do not have drawers filled with scarves, jewelry boxes overflowing with coordinating pieces, and I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT wear hats (unless I'm running).  

I have one belt in my possession.  But I don't wear it.  The buckle is too big and I have to go into the third hole, to make it tight enough,  which leaves a big flappy piece waving out from underneath my shirt.

So, instead, I carry on;  constantly tugging, pulling, and shifting.  Wearing long tops and praying for the day that belly button jeans become fashionable once again.

It's either that or I suck it up and get a low back tatt.