I was a normal-sized 12 year old, and I am still a normal-sized 12 year old. Because of my failure to grow after middle school, I continued to wear the same clothes for many years. In the past 10 years, I believe I have surrendered 3 pairs of pants because they were just ugly (a pair of overalls, sparkly pants, and a pair which lost its elasticity and became extremely baggy after one wash.)
My senior year of college found me with no less than four pants from middle school, and I believe four from high school. I bought no pants in college. I was more focused on black and white or outrageously colored dresses and skirts. I was also more focused on eating. Three pairs of pants were lost in that year-- two to busted zippers, one to a prominent crotch-hole.
I was able to keep these pants for so long on account of my purchasing standards: if I get something, I will wear it forever. By college graduation I was down three pairs of jeans, and it was becoming painfully clear that I needed new pants.
Yes. New pants.
I tried to shop for pants, but I was unable to select a pair because of a basic unresolved dilemma: to buy pants which fit my style, but which didn’t look like a middle schooler’s. I didn’t even know what pants size I was. Compounding the problem was my short stature. My height, skinny legs, and surprisingly large bottom made finding perfect jeans impossible!
After many fruitless and tiring attempts at trousing myself, (yes, I know that’s a made-up word) it was time for a new course of action. I selected a store from which I’d like to buy pants, and resolved to not leave until I had found a suitable pair. But it was not that simple. Concessions had to be made. During negotiations, it was decided that the pants which left with me that day did not have to be “forever” pants.
I walked resolutely into that H&M, flanked by two girl friends and a gay—a winning team. We spent nearly an hour in there, debating first which cut I wanted, then what my size was, then which color the sacred jeans would be. But alas! they didn’t have the color I wanted in my size. Painful concessions. No one said it would be easy. I walked out of there with a pair of light blue size 27 skinny jeans. And a free shirt.
Skinny jeans! Skinny jeans are absolutely not “forever.” They look retarded. The 80’s are over for a reason, people. On our way through the mall we found another H&M, and I exchanged the pants for a darker shade. Brilliant! A bold move.
Of course, my attempt to look normal/trendy fell short, as the skinny jeans got a little baggy, and ceased being skinny. Now they’re just slightly baggy tapered jeans. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
My quest for jeans continued through the fall, though in less force than before. I combed through the second-hand stores on Telegraph, but to no avail. I just couldn’t commit myself to any one pair. Sometimes I’d still be thinking about one weeks after I’d tried it on. Those jeans that were calling my name would inevitably have vanished by the time I’d come back for them. But one day—oh that glorious day!—I found THREE pairs of jeans! (and a sweater.) They were beautiful, and I love them.
I had been hoping for pants with double buttons up the front, like a sailor. I found a dark, thin pair with buttons going diagonally, at the edge of the pockets. Fatigue pockets are nice because you can put your hands in them more naturally, instead of hunching your shoulders to get into those tiny front ones. It has a little buckle at the back to tighten them, and no back pockets. They made my ass look splendid. Success! If I had found them in a Forever 21 whence they originally came, I would have given the excuse that they were not exactly what I wanted. However, that is purely hypothetical, since I would never go into a Forever 21.
The second pair found me with its striped trim and giant striped buttons in the front and back. I have never seen a fly with such an oversized button, but I liked it. Mine.
The third were simple Levi’s. Light blue 518 superlow bootcut, size 3S. The S is key.
And I live happily with my four pairs of hard-earned post-college pants.
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