Too Small, Too Worn, Too Yesterday: Liberate Your Jeans

I own 10 pairs of jeans but wear three. Why can’t I let these jeans go? I gotta liberate my jeans.

Why do I keep jeans that are too small? I don’t wear them.

• They are expensive.
• They are a “good” brand.
• I hope that I will one day I will fit back into them.

Each reason is actually an excuse because I can’t wear the jeans. What do I really plan to do with these souvenirs from my pre-baby life? Put the jeans in a shadow box and hang them on the wall?  Seriously, the jeans aren’t trophies. I was awarded these jeans after I upped my cardio and quit carbs. I’m. So. Proud. 

For 2019, I resolve to not save my jeans for another day when I’m 10 pounds lighter.  I’m content with my weight, but these jeans tease me into dieting. 

Tossing the pants isn’t an excuse to avoid healthy weight loss. My incentive to exercise isn’t to fit into arbitrary pairs of jeans. Fitness enables me to run the marathon, chase my kids, and nail that jump shot.

I dump old skinny jeans if:

My baby landing pads reject them.

Baby landing pads are the fleshy upper-thigh area made to cushion your baby right out of the shoot (my pedestrian definition). If they’re giving my jeans attitude, then I abandon any attempt to zip said jeans up. #liberatethejeans

 My butt-crack is smiling wide to the world.

I won’t keep the jeans that slip right on and button right up but don’t wear well. If they show butt-crack, I’m done. I won’t keep them if the butt-crack only shows when I crouch, either, because then I avoid crouching. No, baby girl. I can’t pick you up because my butt-crack will show. 

The jeans require a nightclub and a martini.

The veteran seven are stacked high in my closet. One pair is linked to a memory of That Night Out, another to That Girls Trip. Both nights happened in my 20s. If I wore an Old Faithful now, my best girlfriend would whisper something to me that begins with, “Honey, I’ve got to be honest with you . . . ”

Liberate the Jeans

Out of closet, out of mind. I’ve sold clothing on consignment apps such as Poshmark, putting money back into my bank account. I’ve also sent old jeans to my sister in law, but then I have to do self-talk when I recognize them on her tiny bum. The simplest solution is to drop them off at a consignment shop ASAP and replace them with forgiving pants such as Nikibiki leggings. No matter what, I’m going to liberate my jeans.