Blue Was My Favorite Color

by Cecilia of Sass Town

I backed out of the driveway Monday with the clear cut mission of finding a replacement pair of blue jeans. There were some definite perimeters involved in the search. They must be dark wash, boot cut, mid-rise, have back pockets but no flaps, be petite in length, fit perfectly and of course make me look taller than I really am. I don’t think that is too much to ask from a favored article of clothing I’m willing to pay a premium price for, if necessary.

Being the wily temptress that I am, I deftly avoided all the styles that even hinted of the impropriety of being a “mom jean.” Equally as important is the total avoidance of the low rise jean which is responsible for the epidemic of muffin tops currently wandering around every mall and high school in America. I can testify as a woman who is well within a normal weight range despite having born 6 children, a 1 1/2 inch zipper is not sufficient equipment to keep that blessed pouch under wraps.

I hit several upscale department stores especially taking my time at Nordstroms to sort through all the designer jeans which can be spotted by their exotic sizing philosophy. How on earth do I know if I am a size 26 or 34 and I can tell right off by the length of their zippers they weren’t going to cut it. They also don’t come in petite sizes but the cute sales girl with the perfect manicure cheerfully offered that they would be happy to hem them at no extra charge (of course they came with a $100 plus sales tag) if I would just take them home and wash them first. While that is sweet it is not at all practical if you have any responsibilities in life.

By this time I am no longer feeling “it” plus I am bored. I decided to hop on over to Kohl’s in search of the sports bra my daughter with the ample bosom had requested. And to what do my wondering eyes do appear? Jackpot. A mini blue jean mecca of old familiar brands which I had recently seen an ad campaign for. It took some time to sort through the crowded racks, but I made it into the institutional looking dressing room with the lighting that casts the sickly shadows and boosts everyone’s mood. The first pair I selected slid up effortlessly. These mid-rise, dark wash, boot cut beauties hit my hips in just the right spot and gently hugged my ladylike curves. I checked myself from every angle and I was good to go. I was elated enough to think about trying on a bathing suit (I’m exaggerating).

I was busy doing a happy dance and getting ready to proclaim mission accomplished when I turned towards the big mirror while slipping off the jeans and let out a loud GASP. Who the hells thighs are those? It was a horrifying sight, not unlike an old road map lined with blue roads. Now I’ll admit I have backslid on my workout routine these past 6 months but when did my legs start looking like that? My legs used to be one of my best features, now they are morphing into my mother-in-laws thighs. Talking about being deflated, I had just fit into a respectable sized 6 jean.

I realized that I only have one full length mirror at home and my girls absconded with it long ago. I only have the help of my counter height bathroom mirrors. On occasion I’ll wander down the hall to check out how my skirt looks with my shoes. I see slender ankles and shapely calves and think “mama’s still got game.” Clearly, any game playing I’ll be doing from here on in will include opaque tights if there is a shorter skirt involved. That and a renewed commitment to gym time and maybe a jar of that firming cream.