Dreamer jeans

Did you know that women, on the average, own seven pairs of jeans, but wear only four?  It’s like that old Chazz Palminteri mob movie, A Bronx Tale, “Sonny had five fingers, but only used three.” 

We all know why.  We can only wear three on any given day.  There’s the fourth pair that we wear as a reward for having survived the flu.  The other three are dreamer jeans.  We only fit in them in our dreams.

I just realized, jeans have their own language.  I have a couple of pairs of standing room only jeans.  These are the jeans that give you “long butt” or the “do your legs connect directly to your waist?” butt.  I don’t dare, in fact I think I can’t, bend over.  If I do, I will split in two from the crack up (that line can be punny in a variety of ways).

These “standing room only” jeans are also the jeans most likely to show off my muffin top.  What is the use of wearing tight jeans if I have to wear a tent for a top?  And skinny jeans were in another lifetime.

I had one complimentary pair that were hand-me-downs from one of my daughters.  Well, she didn’t actually give them to me. I pulled them out of a bag ready for the Salvation Army.  (I’m from that era when you put anything with any life left in it to use.)  They were long, with a bit of a boot leg, and made from smooth denim.  They had a tear, and not a small one, on the inside of the thigh area.  I thought I could get away with it, since my thighs were rarely ever separated.

High water jeans are the ones my daughters hate most on me.  I don’t recall buying jeans too short, until after a couple of wash cycles and seconds on the chips and dip.

You may want to skip the following pictures.  Admittedly, they are pretty scary.

High water jeans

Wait 'til they come back in style jeans

Grandma jeans

Flat or Long Butt top jeans

Muffin top jeans

A study on jeans listed a major complaint, “I look too straight, not enough curves.”  And that’s bad, how?  I often cut my own hair, then later make an appointment to see if a hairdresser can fix it.  “Your hair,” he commented, a little tsk-tsk in his voice like I’d done something evil, “is so even.”  And that’s bad, how?

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