Admitting it

For years, I've had clothes that fit me... and life was good. I had about three pairs of jeans that were my favorites. Well, four pairs if you count the pair that I could only wear around the house until my sense of decency (and the fact that Punkin was getting older and I needed to be a better role model) made me finally throw those jeans away.

Three pairs of favorite jeans. Along came Sweet Pea and the maternity jeans were purchased. Thankfully, I fit back into the favorite jeans after Sweet Pea was born. Now, however, I was down to only two pairs of jeans that fit me. The third pair were a bit uncomfortable... ok, they were tight on me.

Two pairs of favorite jeans. That's good... that's ok. I did buy another pair of jeans, but I almost never wore them. Two pairs. Life was good. Then along came Buddy and my favorite jeans were maternity jeans again for a little while.

After Buddy was born, I (eventually) got back into my two pairs of favorite jeans. You know the feeling of jeans that have just been laundered, right? They are a little snug for a little bit, then they loosen up again. Suddenly, though, my favorite jeans had that "freshly washed and dried" feeling ALL THE TIME. One pair had a little more room than the other, though. I could still wear both pairs of favorite jeans, but now, one pair was more of a favorite than the other.

It was strange, though, as time went on, I began to notice other things about my clothes. My navy blue skirt that was so cute and a little short, but still fashionable for work began getting shorter (it seemed) and a little less comfortable. Then the three pairs of Dockers (one tan, one navy, one black) I had bought for work several years ago got a little shorter, and felt a little more snug than usual, too. The first to go were the tan ones... then the navy... then the black pair started becoming a little harder to button.

I finally broke down and went shopping for new pants... a full size larger than what I had. I found a couple pairs of jeans that I'm not especially happy with, but that fit me, as well as some more pants for work with that all important ingredient -- room to breathe in them.

As for my favorite jeans, well... I've admitted that I've outgrown them. Outloud, and now here on the internet.

I blame the kids... all three of them. It's all their fault, you know. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have this "Mom butt" thing going, nor would I need new jeans. As if their pregnancies weren't enough to change my shape, now I have to succumb to cake and ice cream and other assorted treats on their birthdays as well! (It couldn't be an age thing! It must be the kids!)

Well, I'm here to tell you something jeans! I may have admitted that I'm not the same size I used to be, but I'll be darned if I'm just going to accept this lying down! I can still get these jeans on, and I can still get them zipped (if I hold my breath for a moment and suck in my tummy). It may not be pretty, (or comfortable) but I'm not willing to give up my last pair of favorite jeans without a fight.

Or at least, not without a new favorite pair of jeans to replace them with.

(...oh, and there is no way in hell I'll be able to wear these jeans to Thanksgiving dinner without risk of personal injury...)

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