Ouch.
I mean, Ouch!
O-U-C-H.
I have a size 34 inseam, size 32 length, and so, when Jennifer was taking a bus into Leeds a little while back to a big store where everything is supposed to be very, very cheap, I said i would love one pair of 34 x 32 jeans.
And Jen, indeed, was victorious in her search for said sized jeans.
As I tried to slip my legs into them, however, there was a minor problem. namely, the flesh on my leg was caught in its tracks by the jeans. Literally, the jeans just kind of hung on to my thigh-flesh with their frictional jean-material.
So, I put the jeans on top of our little closet wardrobe and left them there, as if to say, I'm not talking to you anymore, you European Jeans, you.
But the jeans talked to me. Oh, did they ever talk!
Jeans: Ah, couldn't quite handle our closeness, could you buddy?
Me: (Ignoring in noble fashion.)
Jeans: You ever going to try again? Or you going to quit...well...well?
Me: (Ignoring in noble fashion.)
However, today, the Jeans won. That, or I just got tired of wearing the same brown pants every single day until I felt like they were part of my official stay-at-home-dad uniform.
So, I inconspicuously slid the jeans off the wardrobe after my shower this morning, pushed and prodded my thigh flesh (and then my butt flesh) into said jeans, and made my way downstairs, where Jennifer and Tyler were playing in the living room with blocks and puzzles.
trying to act like everything was normal, I sauntered into the room, squeezed my lower half back into a chair, and said nonchalantly, "What's up, guys?"
Jennifer's smile made me smile, too.
"I thought those were too small?" She said, maintaining that beautiful smile.
"Well, they were...but then I figured, why not try--you know, really try? So, I did."
"Do they feel okay?"
"Yeah--but tell me honestly, if I wear these in public, are people going to stare at me all day and wonder what the heck I'm doing?"
"No, no, of course not. They look fine."
Later that morning, as we were saying goodbye to Jennifer as she was heading in to school, and Tyler and I were heading towards a lightly-snowed-on playground, I yelled out to her--wearing my European flesh-hugging jeans, "I love you! Bye, Babe!"
And Tyler immediately looked longingly towards his mommy, and then said, "Bye, Babe!"
I had to laugh that deep kind of belly laugh--the kind that comes up from your gut and enters the world like something funny that just came up from that deep part of your belly.
The part of the belly that European jeans really hang onto, let me tell you.
