Friday, September 08, 2006
The hardest button to button
In honor of my awesome friend Elizabeth, whose blog I just discovered, and who wrote therein about fat jeans vs. skinny jeans, I bring you a little tale of the jeans I am wearing today. These jeans are what some may be tempted to call my "skinny jeans," due to the fact that they routinely leave a red welt of too-tight-ness around my midsection. However, "skinny jeans" is a misnomer. Their correct name would be "jeans that should fit but don't."
Here's the fact: I have several other pairs of pants this size, and they all fit me just fine. Some of them are even bordering on "too loose." And yet I have to suck in just to button the jeans on most days. Why? Because they are crappy Old Navy jeans. I have long been a wearer of crappy Old Navy jeans, reasoning that it would be silly to pay $60 or $70 somewhere else for a basic wardrobe staple when you can get the exact same thing there for $24.99. Now I'm starting to realize what those extra 40 bucks are so are paying for: correct button placement.
Yes, it seems that on my crappy Old Navy jeans, someone on the assembly line (man, I really wish I had that little "inspected by" number right now so I knew who to blame!) situated the button just a little bit too far to the right. How else can you explain the fact that the jeans fit perfectly everywhere else, yet threaten to cut off the circulation in my waist every time I button them? Unfortunately, I did not make this connection until after I had worn them several times (all the while consoling myself with thoughts of "I just need to break them in!" or "If only I lost that last 5 pounds!"), and so it is too late to take them back and demand a more functional pair.
If only these were a regular pair of pants, I could perform a button removal with no problem, but I am fairly certain I do not possess an implement that would allow me to dismantle (and then...uh, mantle? remantle?) the metal jeans button. Sure, I suppose I could just leave the button unbuttoned, since no one would probably notice if I were wearing a long enough shirt, but that just seems like an open invitation for the zipper to just slide right down, too. No, it looks as if I will have to admit defeat at the hands of Old Navy. Could this be my karmic retribution?
In honor of my awesome friend Elizabeth, whose blog I just discovered, and who wrote therein about fat jeans vs. skinny jeans, I bring you a little tale of the jeans I am wearing today. These jeans are what some may be tempted to call my "skinny jeans," due to the fact that they routinely leave a red welt of too-tight-ness around my midsection. However, "skinny jeans" is a misnomer. Their correct name would be "jeans that should fit but don't."
Here's the fact: I have several other pairs of pants this size, and they all fit me just fine. Some of them are even bordering on "too loose." And yet I have to suck in just to button the jeans on most days. Why? Because they are crappy Old Navy jeans. I have long been a wearer of crappy Old Navy jeans, reasoning that it would be silly to pay $60 or $70 somewhere else for a basic wardrobe staple when you can get the exact same thing there for $24.99. Now I'm starting to realize what those extra 40 bucks are so are paying for: correct button placement.
Yes, it seems that on my crappy Old Navy jeans, someone on the assembly line (man, I really wish I had that little "inspected by" number right now so I knew who to blame!) situated the button just a little bit too far to the right. How else can you explain the fact that the jeans fit perfectly everywhere else, yet threaten to cut off the circulation in my waist every time I button them? Unfortunately, I did not make this connection until after I had worn them several times (all the while consoling myself with thoughts of "I just need to break them in!" or "If only I lost that last 5 pounds!"), and so it is too late to take them back and demand a more functional pair.
If only these were a regular pair of pants, I could perform a button removal with no problem, but I am fairly certain I do not possess an implement that would allow me to dismantle (and then...uh, mantle? remantle?) the metal jeans button. Sure, I suppose I could just leave the button unbuttoned, since no one would probably notice if I were wearing a long enough shirt, but that just seems like an open invitation for the zipper to just slide right down, too. No, it looks as if I will have to admit defeat at the hands of Old Navy. Could this be my karmic retribution?
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]