Dear Skinny Jeans,
I’m breaking up with you. Please don’t be mad. So many others still love you. You have devoted fans everywhere. It’s just, I’m no longer one of them.
We had a good run, didn’t we?
We partnered on so many different occasions, in so many different ways.
We went casual-cool, with riding boots, flats, and tennies. We were sophisticated and classy, all dark denim and heels for our date nights and girls’ nights. We went from ripped and rocker to high-waisted and mom-jean-esque. We even had a very unfortunate foray into the Ugg-trend in the mid 2000s.
We’ve done it all.
But, see, things have changed. I’m different now. I’ve grown. No longer the slim-hipped, pre-children woman of my 20s (yes, we go back that far) I’m now a woman’s woman, nearing my mid-40s, and you just don’t quite fit like you used to.
Or (and this is even scarier) maybe you never did, and it is only age and maturity that showed me the truth. We’ll never know.
What I do know, dear skinny jeans, is that the other day I happened upon a video of me walking from behind. It was innocent enough, of course, just a leisurely stroll through a nature reserve. But the result? Sheer terror.
This real woman’s, shall we say it, behind, should not be put into a situation where it is the largest part of any silhouette. There should be a law against putting real human beings in a style that is not, unfortunately, unlike an upside down carrot. There is no balance here, no gentle descent into skinny oblivion. It’s more like a sharp decline, hips to ankles. It’s not graceful. It’s not flattering.
Honestly, I was horrified.
Listen, I hate to say it, Skinny Jeans, but this time, it’s actually not me. It’s totally all you.
I only know this because I found someone else, someone designed clearly by God to give this real woman a balance, a shape, some comfort.
I found, dear friend, Bootcut Jeans.
I know how weird this is for you to hear. I know you were there for me as I recovered from the low rise, behind-bearing flares of the late 90s. I know you were there when I left them and swore to never ever go back. I know you heard me when I pledged solemn allegiance to you as I broke up with them, praising you the wave of fashion future. I know I said a lot of things and that this about-face must be a shock to you.
Listen, I hate to say it, Skinny Jeans, but it’s time to break up. I found, dear friend, Bootcut Jeans.
But, as I’ve said before; I’ve changed. My body, it’s changed. I know how flattering you are on pencil-thin models and pretty young things. I know how fashion bloggers can wear you and look amazing because they know just how to pose. I know this. But I, unfortunately, am none of these things.
I’m just a regular woman, trying her best to feel good about herself. I love me some leggings (God’s grace to us because of life’s insanity), but I also love to look nice, wear flattering clothes, and, maybe most of all, feel comfortable in my pants and with my body. And for me, right now, Bootcut Jeans seem to be the only way to do this.
Don’t believe me? Just think about it, Skinny Jeans.
You are widest at the hips. The hips, Skinny Jeans. In my completely unscientific research, I’ve found that all women, yes even pencil-thin ones, don’t want to put this part of our body on high alert for all to see. We prefer camouflage to highlighter. All of us.
Now I know this is how our bodies actually look, but accentuated by your skinniness, well, it just doesn’t work. Sure, you can be balanced a bit by shoe choice or by conscientious blouse wearing, but for the most part, where you are widest, we are widest. And we don’t like that.
Bootcut, though, that glorious design straight from a woman’s heart, they aren’t. They’re balanced.
Oh yes, that beautiful word. Balance.
They balance me, plain and simple. While you were busy being all high-fashion and on-trend, old faithful Bootcut settled for being practical and classic, sticking around in the background, promising to look better and be more flattering from all angles, without all the pomp and circumstance. Nearly as wide at the ankle as the hip, they provide a much-needed camouflage to the one area where most women don’t feel like wearing a “look at me here” sign. They work with boots, heels, sneakers and just about any single pair of shoes I can throw at them.
They are, quite simply, my new love.
So, dear Skinny Jeans, yes, I am breaking up with you. For now. It is you, it’s not really me. And I’m sorry about it. But a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do. And, dear closet staple, this I’ve got to do.
A real woman in 2020, searching for some new pants
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