Skinny jeans, fat jeans


If you have an “issue” with weight, skip this post. You won’t find it amusing, insightful or nostalgic. It will only piss you off. (Are they gone?)

If turning 60 was a  milestone, this week I passed one of far greater significance. I outgrew my Levis. First time.

I’ve weighed 155 pounds since high school. I’ve worn the same size Levis –34″ inseam, 32″ waist– for more than 40 years. And I have some jeans that are 20 years old. The same age as some of our summer interns.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

I’ve gained about 5 pounds in the last 6 months, enough to make all of my comfortable, fashionably warn jeans just a little too snug. Oh, I can lie down on the bed, like some supermodel and get them buttoned but they just aren’t comfortable any longer.

So this weekend I purchased some new jeans, with a 34 inch waist. Talk about Passages. On the up side, it’s a hell of a lot easier to find 34×34 jeans than 32×34, although I’m not sure why.

Still in the last stages of denial, I came home and tried on –one final time– all my dear old jeans. Only a couple made the cut. The rest are in suspended animation in a big Tupperware crate in the basement.

I have no doubt they could fetch a couple of hundred a piece on Rodeo Drive (assuming straight leg jeans ever make a comeback). But you can’t put a price on knowing Jessica Alba’s little keester was packed in a pair of my old Levis. Sigh.

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