This morning was a morning like any other.
Although I feel like wearing sweatpants all day, I am much too proud. So, I go for my unforgiving, uncomfortable pair of jeans. I may have made poor decisions when it came to a large pizza last night, but I hope for the best. I stick my right leg into your pant leg, then my left. I do a little wiggle to get them over the thigh, hopping around as if I’m on a pogo stick, the jeans moving only an inch at a time.
Yes! Over the butt! (The butt is always the hardest part.)
I hold my breath, squeeze in my stomach as much as possible to achieve the button. No success. I try once more, but to my dismay they are not buttoning quite as they should. I knew I shouldn’t have chose you, I shouldn’t have defeated myself in such a way, but you can’t blame a girl for trying. When you’re good, you’re really good. You hug my hips just right, and you fit me like a glove on my best days. I feel confident when wearing you. But, when you're bad, you're really bad. You leave me barricaded, squeezing me and restricting me inside a small piece of denim. Am I going to be able to breathe? Who knows. Am I going to bust you at the seams? Stay tuned.
The days that I wake up and my body doesn’t feel up to par, or it’s my time of the month, I know that I shouldn't trust you. Today is one of those days. I reach into my drawer, and pull out plan B. An aesthetically beautiful pair of dark wash stretch skinny jeans that would stretch just enough to cover a night of bad food decisions. Their reliable denim may be a bit worn, and stretched, but they have gotten me through my worst days and I knew they would fit. I place my right leg in first, just as I had before, then my left. I pull them over my thighs first, then over my butt with ease. There is no hopping involved, it was simply not necessary. This is a simple victory, although I still feel defeated.