Nothing quite defines my relaxing without thinking of a pair of my favorite jeans. My jeans are worn in to fit me, holes in the buttocks under the pockets, holes in the knees, weathered almost white from so much wear. Soft to the touch, a calming comfortable feeling when worn. A totally chilling day, sitting around the house in a old pair of jeans, playing my guitar. You just can not put a price tag on a pair of jeans like that.
Well one of my old friends finally wore out it there is such a thing. I decided to make a pair of shorts of them. This lead me to having to buy a new pair of jeans.
I headed out to pick me up a new pair, I could not find my favorite jeans anywhere on the shelf and asked the sales person to assist me in finding them. She was polite and led me to another section in the store. She asked my size and showed a me a wall of jeans.
Now I have not purchased jeans in a while. I hang on to my jeans for years. I wear them until they are thread bare, hardly held together. I looked at the wall of deep blue jeans and all the numbers designating the different styles. Sighed deeply and choose a few pairs in my size to go try on.
Slowly I took off my old jeans and put on the new pair. I turned around to look in the mirror and instantly started to shudder. These are mom jeans. They fit up over my waist, just under my ribs. I turned sideways and started shaking. These jeans do not flatter any part of my body. Hastily I took them off and cast them aside, to put my old friend back on.
I can shop for jeans some other day.