Everything Gets Between Me and My Calvins!

It’s always enjoyable walking through the Jeans section of a department store, isn’t it? If you wanted to up your joy factor, you could simply drop a bowling ball on your foot, and then stroll through the jeans section. There I was in Nordstrom having a revelation – – I would rather shop for swimsuits than jeans! First came “Bell-Bottom” jeans, then “Boot Cut” followed by “Boyfriend” jeans. Someone got smart and invented “Mom Jeans” followed by (depending how confident you were) “Not Your Daughter’s Jeans.” Now I am proposing, “Not My Muffin-Top” jeans. Of course this would be one of many styles in my new Fall Menopausal collection. If that sold well, my final contribution to blue jean heaven would be, “I Ate 2 Peach Cobblers and Still Zipped These Up” jeans.

As I wandered in front of a display with an older, full-figured, wrinkled mannequin (oh wait, that’s a mirror!) I came upon “Relaxed Jeans,” and “Distressed Jeans.” Could “Worried” and “Irritated” Jeans be far behind? But lest we lull ourselves into a false sense of comfort and security within the fashion world, beware of “Yeast Infection Heaven” Jeans, AKA “Skinny Jeans,” right Ladies? I’ve been circulating on the Internet that Skinny Jeans are a major fashion faux Pas, but someone keeps sending back an email that they’ve checked Snopes and that’s just an urban legend. Darn.

Before I escaped, an overly helpful young salesgirl took my arm, offering me a guided tour. She pointed out denim now comes in plum, turquoise, buttercup yellow, seafoam green, mustard, and burnt sienna.

Because self-consciousness always looks better cloaked in Crayola Colors!

It’s complicated where jeans should sit on your torso too. There’s low-rise, (which she assured me would make my husband’s temperature rise!) mid-rise, sunrise, and I’m still hoping for stock market-rise jeans. Oh! You must never make the humiliating mistake I did – – calling them “Slacks,” or your salesgirl will raise her eyebrows and march you over to “the Girdle section,” bypassing Spanx completely.  Like there’s a difference?  I am continuously perplexed when names abruptly change for the exact same fashion item. In the seventies, people trudged around with a pair of “thongs” on their feet at the beach. Now thongs are sold in Victoria’s Secret and instead of coming in pairs, they’re worn below a pair. . . of 36 C’s! And these same people now trudge around in Flip-Flops on the sand, when that used to be a trick that accomplished gymnasts performed on padded mats.  Must you really re-name merchandise, Designers?

But if I thought browsing was fun, I was in for the time of my life once coerced into the no-elbow dressing room. “Little Miss Menopause – – How’s that size 16 working out for you?” the 12 year old, (if she was a day!) sales-assistant blared sweetly over the department store’s PA system. “Field trip’s over – – bus is waiting for you outside,” I muttered under my sweaty breath. She repeatedly returned to check on me, bringing new items (that she just KNEW I would simply adore,) when I finally told her to pretend she worked in Walmart and disappear. I consoled myself thinking that Brooke Shields could be having her own hot flash at this very moment!

As I slinked to the register, I hid my item away from prying eyes. “Baggy, Saggy, Craggy, Shaggy, Haggy Trouser Style” proclaimed my label. “With 48% Span-dex, (for long lifespan?) 32% Fan-dex (for hot flashes) 16% Expand-ex (for Thanksgiving dinner) 2% bran-dex (for constipation) and 1% Man-dex (for lonely nights) Hmmm, only adds up to 99% but who’s counting? I secretly hoped the missing 1% was Demand-ex (for bossy moments)

Handing me the receipt, Miss Growing More Youthful by the Minute cheerily (but suspiciously) remarked, “See you very VERY soon!”

Fat chance. Then I drove home to discover the plastic store security tag still firmly attached to the pocket of my new Trouble Shooter Jeans. Grrrrrrr. Naturally. Bitch works on commission!