I used to be a lot more flamboyant. Case in point:
That was just before my 25th birthday. I was young and free (and possibly tipsy) and saw absolutely no issue with striking a pose for a booty shot, because I’m sorry, those jeans got the job DONE.
I’m about to be 31, and while there’s no way you’d ever catch me posing for a picture like that anymore (because these days I’m practically a librarian), I wore those exact same jeans yesterday. It’s been more than 6 years, and I’m still wearing them. Granted, they’ve blessedly stretched with me, as my derriere extraordinaire isn’t exactly what it once was – because while the good news is you don’t stay 25 forever, the bad news is neither does your butt.
But they still fit – and this, my friends, is a victory.
However, they’re threadbare, and I’m one panicked lunge away from disaster. So last night, in a fit of low self-esteem, I booked a haircut, shopped for makeup at Sephora, and bought a new pair of jeans at Nordstrom.
Don’t tell me a new pair of Hot Jeans won’t make me feel better about life.
My old pair have been demoted to “Second Favorite Jeans,” and I’ll reserve them for special occasions – like when I do karaoke in small towns. But for everything else, you’ll see me wearing my new jeans.
I have a lot swirling around in my mind and my heart these days. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I’m processing through a lot of tough stuff. Some days, I feel like the very worst version of myself – and while I like you a whole lot, the internet probably isn’t the place to talk about these things.
So please accept a post about my jeans for today, and have a great weekend. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, like pose for booty shots. Unless you’re 25. Then go for it. You’ll want that picture later.