They were having a sale. Skinny Jeans. The "in" thing compared to the baggy Levi's I practically wear to bed.
My sister begged me to make my butt look like it arrived into the 21st century. So I went to the sale where the saleswoman tried to convince me (or squeeze me) into a pair of jeans two sizes smaller than what I normally wear.
"Suck it in! Pull! Great! Look at how good your butt looks!"
My butt? Was that my waist? Having trouble intaking air, I noticed the fat on my lower half was squished so tight it had nowhere to go but up over the top of the jeans!
Trying not to faint I grabbed the saleslady. In my old loose jeans, my fat evenly melted into my body. In these jeans, I looked like I just ate a buffalo. And felt like it too.
The saleslady giggled, "Oh, everyone has waist fat, just wear a loose shirt to cover it."
Really? I'm to give up breathing so I can fit into skinny jeans only to be forced to cover my spillage fat with a big shirt which will hide the view of my nice butt which was the very reason I bought the jeans in the first place?
It was exhausting. But yes, I did buy the jeans. Why? Cause I have a husband that never gets to see my butt, even in bed (cause it's dark). I owe him that.
Who cares if I change to my big jeans in thirty minutes. How long does he need to see my butt anyway?