If you were writing a blog about squeezing into too-tight jeans and I were reading it, I would want to ask the question: Why are you buying them if you aren’t happy with it, nim nim?
My mother in law said you have to cover your hiney with SOMETHING.
True. But there’s an awful lot of elastic available that people go for when dieting. So why jeans?
Well, I’ll tell you, since you didn’t ask.
I’m leaving Monday on a Wheat Farm Adventure. As in, I’m going to visit with some friends on a wheat farm. I don’t know what farmers do or what occurs on farms. I am suspecting it’s bad. Bad, bad things occur on farms…things they can’t tell you in the grocery store when they are scanning the barcode of your enriched wheat flour. I imagine walking through the wheat grasses and being bitten on the ankle by a mole hog. Or a pig. Or a coyote.
A farmer might tell you this is not an accurate imagining, but it’s my imagination and my jeans. You can’t take that away from me.
So when I asked what people wear on farms in July, I was told: WEAR JEANS.
That’s why I went shopping last night. And came face to face with the lies, then with the truth, then with the bigger sized jeans.
Also, my sister in law, inspired by my recent skating landslide victory, challenged me to a race in a local roller rink. Why do people keep torturing themselves trying to beat me?
I won. This time I beat TWO OLD PEOPLE.
I know. I may wear bigger jeans than some skaters, but I still skate like a greased vapor. She really should have known not to challenge me; I was wearing elastic pants…