The Day I Rocked the Mom Jeans

I did a bad, bad thing.

I wore mom jeans.  All day long.  With little to no shame (depending on where I was).

It was unintentional.  I didn't know they were mom jeans when I bought them.  I mean, I technically should have know that $13 Gloria Vanderbilt jeans from Costco probably weren't going to be the hippest of denim, but they had me at $13.

These are *clearly* mom jeans.  What was I thinking?

Here is their story.

Costco gets me every time.  SO MANY THINGS.  Even...jeans.  

Charles had purchased some pants from Costco before, and with success (they fit, but that's the thing about guys...they know their size and can pretty much just buy pants anywhere), so when I saw these bad girls on sale for just a measly $13 I figured it was worth a try.  Even though, at Costco (in case you aren't lucky enough to have one by you and know how they work), you can't try things on.  

I need to back up a few months now.

Somewhere on the internet is a HILARIOUS blog post about mom jeans.  Basically, what to avoid, how to know if you're wearing them, and most importantly - how to stop!  If you know the post I am speaking of, please let me know so I can share.  And maybe, ahem, re-read it.

Anyway, I knew, from this particular blog post, that the cardinal sins of mom jeans were a high waist, slack through the thighs, and tapered legs.

Now, I would never ever ever in a million years buy a pair of jeans that fit that description.  Ever!

Puh-leeze.  I know what I look good in.

But for $13 they were worth a try.  I was even hopeful that they might...fit.  I don't own a comfortable pair of jeans, and I would pay a lot of money to have some.

I took them home and promptly forgot about them (being Texas, and being hot and all).  A few weeks later, though, I needed to run some errands, and being October, I thought I might break out my new jeans.

And WOW, they were comfy!  Unlike my other jeans that cut off my circulation or give me a major muffin top or sag in the most unflattering way while clinging to my thighs at the same time, these actually fit comfortably around my waist.  There was no blood loss to my thighs, I wasn't constantly hiking my pants up and I didn't have a big squish of baby belly poking out through my tank top.

These were bad ASS.

"I wonder why all jeans can't fit this way?"  I wondered.

There was one weird thing about these pants, though.  The zipper and the button seemed kinda high.  Like, maybe I buttoned them just a few inches short of my bra.  But maybe they would settle after I wore them a bit?

Still, that wasn't cool at all, so I wore a dark and baggy shirt so no one would see the outline of my pants around my rib cage.

They seemed to be the right length, but...were the ankles tight compared to the thighs, maybe?  A look in the mirror confirmed that my "boot cut" jeans were indeed boot cut, but, it was kind of hard to tell when looking straight on due to the relaxed cut of the thigh.  So I turned sideways, and...they looked pretty good.

Around this time I realized, with horror, that these were classic mom jeans in the worst possible way.  High waist, relaxed thigh, big ugly pockets spread across my butt, a deceiving but definitely tapered leg...there was no denying it.

Apparently, this is the High Symbol of Mom Jeanery.  I didn't know, I promise!

Do I still wear them, I wondered?  Or do I rip them off and throw them away and pretend like it never happened? And worse, Why do I even have to ask myself this?

It was at this fork in the Road of Aging that I learned something about myself.  Sometimes, I just don't give a crap.

These jeans were comfortable.  And I was going to wear them.

And wear them, I did.

Mostly, I was into it.  They were comfy.  They stayed up.  I ate a burger and didn't need to unbutton them.  

But sometimes, I felt a little ashamed.  I realized I was breaching an unsaid rule of my mid-thirties: don't act old, yet!  It's not time!  You've got your senior years ahead of you in which you can wear anything you want!

I came home and gave myself one last look in the full-length mirror.  I sighed.  There they were, still around my waist.  I hadn't hitched my pants up once today.  Not a single time!  

And then, I removed them.  I tossed them in the wash (did they feel as dirty as I did?) and promised to never wear them again.

The quest for the perfect pair of jeans continues.  But these Gloria Vanderbilt ones, for all their staying-uppness, ain't them.

But here's what I learned from my Day in Mom Jeans: mom jeans are comfortable.  And if you want to wear them, I swear I won't judge.  I'll just be over in the corner, discreetly unbuttoning my jeans to make room for that hamburger I just ate and wishing, once again, that my feet hadn't fallen asleep due to the slim cut of my denim's thighs.  

Admiring your mom jeans, no doubt.