Send in the Clowns

Something about this tag is extremely appealing to me.

I bought a new pair of jeans recently, a brand I have bought and liked in the past, Lucky.  They looked like they were cut a little differently than the current pair I was in love with and wearing but I thought maybe time had altered my old pair.  I love my current pair, actually pairs, I liked them so much I bought multiple of the same, so I knew I liked the brand and the fit.  I bought the new pair and brought them home put them on and hated them and wore them for awhile until I just had to admit they were difficult to keep up too.  

All day I kept doing the elbows to the waist and wriggling my elbows to get the pants back up where they needed to be.  Maybe this was the new show your butt crack look cut but I wasn’t interested.  So next time I was out and  standing looking at the Lucky jeans I called Taite over while I rolled down the waist band of the pair I love, and asked her to check the size on the tag.  I thought maybe in their attempt to make women feel good about themselves, they slowly make the same size just a tad bigger each year, so I bought the next size down.

I came home put on the next pair, looked in the mirror and thought, “kinda same as the last pair, funny looking” but wore them anyway not liking them but figuring this is the cross a woman has to bear when she gets older, jeans that morph her body into a ridiculous shape.  That  Mom Fit  I figured I’d just keep my recent purchase woes to myself, maybe the misfit was all my imagination, maybe I looked fantastic in these jeans, maybe I was dilusional.  I decided to just wear them and try to bond with them.

That day we traveled to Moscow to see Aileen and had a grand old time until at the end of the day when Aileen and I were alone chatting she suddenly looked at me and said, “Mom, those look like clown pants.”

OK, that was it; they’re gone.