#freethemomjean

Mom Jeans.

Mom Jeans.

I walk by a popular clothing store and they are taunting me with their “low as can be rise and skinny as chopsticks” fit and fashionable jeans.

They’re saying, “Awwww, hey girl, you know you’ll look good in these jeans, you’ve still got your youthful figure.” I think for a moment to myself, take a glance at my behind in their large reflective windows and decide that I would, in fact, look fantastic in those jeans.
I waltz in, select a variety of sizes because let’s be honest, each store is different.
I am led to the change rooms by a fashionista with a large smile on her face who says “I love the fit of these jeans, so flexible…” I nervously smirk in return.
I am alone. I start to slither into the size I was the last time I shopped here, maybe 6 years ago?
This is my thought process.
  • Are these real pants? – as I unroll the skin-tight jean up the calves
  • They weren’t kidding when they said chopsticks
  • The size must be numbered wrong
  • Did my knees gain weight? Is that even possible?
  • These are supposed to fit human legs right?
  • Onto the next size
  • How am I a different size than I was 6 years ago when I am currently still wearing the last pair of pants I bought here…
  • Whew, up to the thighs this time – take that knees!
  • They should offer yoga here
  • Breathe in, breathe out, downward dog, breathe in, button up annnddddd relax.
  • These are clearly not getting past these thunder thighs
  • Maybe if I tuck them into the jeans while I jump?
  • Uhmm, no. Never mind.
  • Did I just hear a rip?
  • Next size, last ones
  • Is that the cost of the jeans or the item number?
  • Up the calves, these are waaaay too long.
  • Over the thighs and…
  • ….
  • Wow, when they said lowest of rise, they really meant it
  • Do people’s bottoms actually fit these?
  • How are these remotely flexible?
  • My underwear is covering more of my behind than the jeans
  • People will start using me as a piggy bank
  • These aren’t even real pockets – where am I suppose to keep my snacks?
  • I give up
  • It’s no wonder girls are so confused, they’re being squeezed into these suction tubes that they call jeans
  • Oh goodness, they’ll have to call in the jaws of life to get me out of these
  • Hello?! Help?! Anybody?!

 

I drive home, go into my jean drawer and grab my “mom” jeans. They slide right up  – no tucking, no jumping, no yoga poses, no jaws of life, and my lunch that I just ate isn’t hanging over the edge.

Hello, my name is B, I’m 24 years young and I wear mom jeans
…and I’m a lot more comfortable than you are.
#embracechildbearinghips #embracejeanfreedom #freethemomjean #jeanequality

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