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How to say goodbye to your favourite old jeans
by Amber McGown-Rules
It's a tough call having to say goodbye to your favourite jeans when they end up more hole than denim, but Amber McGown-Rules is a tough gal and can help you deal with the pain!
There are many things about being a woman that are hard... like crying over ads with kittens in them, bleeding like a stuck pig once a month and not being able to win punch ups with boys.
But I would say the hardest thing about being a woman is the day when you realise your favourite jeans have well and truly expired. As if saying goodbye to them isn't hard enough, then comes the gruelling task of buying a new pair. Nothing spells homicide like a dire need for new jeans and an iron will to not leave the store until you have the perfect pair.
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Mooky Mission Statement: Farewell, dear jeans. You have served me well. I will always remember the horse-riding we did together, the countless beers I spilled on you, the drawings I did on you when I was bored, and the times I threw you into a pile on the floor in a moment of passion. Go well and don't forget our good times. *Sniff* I love you! love from us xxx |
You know when you find THE hole? The one that spells the beginning of the end?
Usually it's crotch bound, and on a steady move.
You deny it to yourself for a while; you convince yourself that the inside of your leg isn't cold at all, and that your bare flesh hanging out of your pants on a winter's morning is perfectly acceptable.
Then your best friend notices. Strike one.
Then your boss notices. Strike two.
Then a complete stranger tells you in a bathroom. (Devastatingly embarrassing yet overwhelmingly irritating. THANK YOU STRANGER LADY BUT MAYBE I LIKE MY JEANS THIS WAY, WHY DON'T YOU JUST FIX YOUR BAD EYELINER, WIPE THAT SMUG LOOK OFF YOUR FACE AND GO BACK TO PLAYING POOL WITH THAT DRUNK GUY, YOU ANNOYING SO AND SO.)
Armed with the need for denim, a miniscule budget and a death wish, you brace yourself for the onslaught that is department store shopping. After fighting your way through the haze of ugly underwear (does anyone really wear hot pink lace?) and an obstacle course of mothers with toddlers flinging objects from their prams, a wall of 5 assistants spraying you with old lady perfume as you dodge past them, you finally fight your way to the jeans section, spluttering and tripping, only to run into the skinniest, most attractive, ridiculously well proportioned supermodel cum shop assistant they could possibly muster to make you feel just that little bit more homicidal than you already did.
You do not want help from this girl. You want to force feed her Doritos maybe, but you don't want help from her.
So you try looking for jeans alone.
After trying on 19 pairs, you finally acquiesce to her high-pitched perky offers of help and she gets you jeans that are 3 sizes too small, so you have to get dressed, sneak out to find her, ask her to get you human-sized pants (which nearly always happens in front of ultra hot boyfriend of some other stick insect who is trying on hotpants.)
After countless more attempts and hours, you finally find a pair that fits and a wash of relief befalls you. Bells ring. Angels descend from on high. Your serotonin skyrockets. The urge to kill subsides.
Upon checking the price tag you realise that you won't be able to eat for a week if you buy these jeans. You also know if you spend 12 seconds longer in the presence of all these nice-smelling well-groomed evil-masterminded women you will start self-harming with your car keys, so you grit your teeth, put it on your credit card and storm out for comfort food and a teary phone call to your mother.
I vote we start a support group for women who have to go through the trauma of buying new jeans once every 3 years!
Yep, let's form a support group for women who don't shop for... shudder... fun.
About the author
Max Macbride is lost in music. He's caught in a trap. There's no turning back! A recent foreign-language business graduate, he aims to make the world a better place through a combination of financial astuteness and nu-skool flamenco. He would also like to be dressed as a small bear.
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