Not just any skinny jeans. And not as in the style of the jeans. I mean THE skinny jeans: that pair of jeans almost all women decide to keep at some point, despite all logical and practical reasons not to. That pair that you loooooved. That pair that you bought when you were at you’re skinniest, whatever that size was. That pair that you haven’t been able to get into in years. But, that pair that you hope to fit into again, someday. Yes, I’m talking about THOSE skinny jeans.
Well, last night I decided to get rid of some clothing suitable for donation, those clothes you forget you actually have. And so, I was in front of a big pile of not-worn-in-a-while jeans (hello, I’m a jeans addict. And perhaps I have a hoarding gene somewhere in there too. Lol), trying them on, and putting them in either the keep pile, or the donate pile (they all ended up there, I’m happy to say).
And then, the last pair of the bunch: MY skinny jeans. This is a Mavi pair I bought in 2001 (that’s actually them in the picture), following a CEGEP (what college is called here) sports class I had to take (let’s just say I wouldn’t have willingly selected running & fitness if I had a choice in the matter) and in which I had lost some weight, because I had applied myself enough to not flunk it. One day in the summer right after, I went in a store with a friend (who was tiny in height as well as size) who wanted to do some shopping. Altho I didn’t mind accompanying her at all, this was of not much interest as a plus size clothing wearer; there’s just not much for me to do in a “normal size store” except check out a couple of jewelry pieces and scarves, as well as give my opinion on my friend’s fashion trials. But then, the saleswoman decided to pay attention to me, and mentioned that she had some size 15 jeans I could try on. With a “YEAH RIGHT LOL” attitude, along with my friend’s pushy motivation, I tried them on anyway. And they fit! I mean, it was a pretty tight fit especially sitting down, but I was still in the smallest size of pants I’d been in for a while. I bought them. Needless to say I really loved them a lot, and also needless to say that with my sports class over, I couldn’t fit in them a couple months later. And armed with that weird hope syndrome for the future that we, women, often have for clothing, I kept them. Just in case.
So, back to last night… The jeans were in front of me, displayed on the bed. I took a deep breath (after seriously considering just ripping them apart lol), pulled one leg up, than the other, took another deep zen breath, and proceeded to close the zipper and button without any difficulty at all. WHAT!? What what what?! When did this happen???, I thought. Although I did lose a little bit of weight recently, it wasn’t that much that I could have predicted this outcome.
After all the shocking I-fit-in-them commotion (haha), I looked up to the mirror. And it was NOT what I was expecting to see: this womanly body didn’t look good in these youngster jeans. Clearly, my clothing style preferences had also changed a lot too, even tho jeans are still what I wear every single day of my life. Although the number was right, the fit was allllll wrong; floppy and loose, not fitting me well at all, and certainly not flattering…
And so I took them off, folded, put them in the donate pile, and just sat there, a little confused. All this wait and hope and hanging on to the past for THAT?! It was obvious as night and day: the actual number was not really of importance to me anymore, compared to fit and how I feel in them (which is a GREAT thing, don’t you think?) What importance does a number have if I feel like a burlap sack of potatoes…? Lol!
I was stunned. And then I remembered that, altho the scale number hadn’t changed all that much, my body certainly had over the years: mushier (lol) in some places, but firmer in others. It had merged into a woman’s body, rather than a young adult’s one.
And this is were you’d usually read something going along the lines of “don’t dwell on the past” or “live in the now” or even something a little more poetic such as “the past is past, leave it be”. And altho these can certainly be wise sometimes, it doesn’t always apply to every situation, nor to everybody.
You see, I am someone (and I’m sure I’m not the only one) who needs to TRULY understand the past in order to… go past it. Even tho sometimes people telling you the answers is enough for that lightbulb moment to occur, it doesn’t ALWAYS work as simply as that. That’s how I am, and I know it, and I’m okay with that part of myself. And most of the time, my friends, those who listen to me trying to find answers, are okay with that too. Sometimes they are annoyed I’m sure, but in the end, they still listen, they still try to offer me possible directions for me to explore to find those answers, and they still love me even if I channel a broken record once in a while.
So what I’m saying is, I’m actually glad that I kept that pair of jeans all those years. Because if I hadn’t kept them and tried them on last night, I wouldn’t have the insights I had when I realized that it’s okay to change, that it’s okay to be who I am right now, that it’s okay to have hopes and struggles that are based in the past (and that they’ll eventually untangle themselves as we evolve), and mostly, that it’s okay (and awesome, even. Lol) that I like my body now more than ever before in my entire life, and that is EVEN if it hasn’t changed that much all in all. I even have proof of that for myself: after all, I *did* wear a dress 5 times this summer as of yet, which is more than the rest of all the time since I’ve been able to choose my own clothing. Progress is what I’m calling that.
And so in an attempt to keep on moving forward, I went back to that donate pile of jeans, selected two pairs, and decided to cut them to make shorts (one super short, and one mid-thigh), which is something I do not wear at all in public. And so the progress, at the very least, makes an attempt to keep on going………….
‘Til next time, beautiful you. :)