Mom Jeans

My “best” jeans are missing. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

Now, things going missing in my house is hardly an unusual occurrence. What’s rare, though, is that for the first time since I was a child, I only own two pair of jeans, so their absence is keenly felt.  The missing ones are a pair of skinny jeans. They look good tucked into boots, but that’s about the only thing they have going for them. They’re too short in the rise, are unwearable without a belt (lest I flash someone while bending over) and really need to be worn with both a compression tank (to smooth out my really-should-have-gotten-rid-of-this-by-now muffin top) and a long tunic or sweater (to disguise the compression tank top, of course). They were made for a bony sixteen year old with boy hips, not a fully fledged woman with birthing hips.

The other jeans, which I’ve owned since I was on maternity leave with my first son (and which were purchased in a panic when I ran out of clothes that fit; a continuously nursing child is both a blessing and a curse) are faded, wide legged, and button up somewhere in the vicinity of my chin.

The skinny jeans are the ones I feel compelled to wear. They’re fashionable. They make the three inches of visible thigh between the top of my boots and the bottom of my sweater look thin. The other ones are the ones that, everything else being equal, I would wear every day because they actually fit.

They’re Mom jeans. Baggy. High-waisted.  They’re the jeans you wore in 1987 and your mom has never stopped wearing. And now they’re the ones you reach for because they hide your post-partum pooch and c-section scar. Comfortable? You bet. Fashionable? Not even. I confess to owing a pair. You probably own a pair too, and unless you’ve had time to give yourself a thorough once-over in a mirror in the morning, you’re probably not even aware that they make your ass look like as expansive as prairie wheat-field.

What’s got me thinking about Mom jeans is this post over at the blog Blood Sweat and Peanut ButterTiffany198549 knows all about Mom jeans and the stages of transition between wearing hip, sexy skinny jeans and Mom jeans: How Bad Jeans Happen To Good Moms. Braver than I, she has so far resisted the slow, pleated slide toward comfort fit. But I embrace my Mom jeans, though they have their place: they are definitely not to be worn on dates with my husband, casual work days, playground visits, girls’ nights out, or any other places when I might actually care what I look like. But on a 9:30 a.m. Saturday errand run, me and my 9-inch rise will be rockin’ the grocery store.


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