I’ve a new favorite pants that I just acquired recently. As a gift for my poor weathered soul. I think it’s a tad smaller for my size and I refuse to eat any meal every time I’m on them. My tummy might not justify the vision that the designer had when he thought of the jeans. I know it’s stupid. The denim had me by my belly. But I love it. Every time I wear it I think I gain five thousand sexy points. It makes my waist look slimmer, my legs longer and my ass— have you seen my ass? By God they are gorgeous! Of course, I’m joking. It actually looks a bit bigger when I’m wearing the jeans. When I was shopping that day I asked a rather cute attendant for a size 32. He looked at me disapprovingly and retrieved another pair. Oh my god, I’m bigger than I thought. I was already thinking of the things that I ate that day when the attendant said, “You are so not a 32. You’re a 29.” Fabulous! That naughty little boy certainly knew how to get me off my pants. I quickly hopped to the fitting room to try it on. The jeans fit perfectly but unfortunately for him I had another brand in mind. “Just look for me if decide to come back,” the attendant said dramatically as I dashed towards the exit. This is just too much of a commitment, I was tempted to say. I have to be sure. His name, by the way, was Carlo.

So anyway, I went to another store and tried on two pairs, this time in sizes 32 and 29. The last pair I bought was size 32 and it was a perfect fit. I first tried the bigger one but it was, well, big and when I tried the smaller size it was too small I could barely move my legs. Since I was shopping alone I went to the attendant and asked if this is how it is really worn. Because the last thing that I would like to happen is to walk around the mall looking like an ice cream cone with three scoops of ice cream on top. Though I didn’t exactly trust her, I went with the smaller size. Now for the last couple of years, I’ve been wearing a plus size wardrobe. My shirts are so big a medium size Christmas tree can even wear it (with a blinking star on top, of course). When I slimmed down I still wore some of my shirts but had started to wear tighter ones. You can just imagine my discomfort when I premiered my slinky, slim jeans on the street for the very first time. I kept worrying that people can see my panty line and that’s a big fashion faux pas. I felt like a hooker!

Of course eventually I got over my initial fear and now I love it. I so love it I would have dated it if only I was still single and available. My pants and I would have coffee at my favorite coffee shop. I’ll have a macadamia nut latte and it would have nothing because it’s forever on a diet. It can’t gain any weight because then it would have to be called fat jeans davah?

Remember an episode of Ugly Betty when she got hold of a genuine Gucci bag but she had to sell it so she could buy medicine for her father. She sat on her bed and cried, “It made me feel beautiful. That bag made me feel special.” “Fashion is good for the soul,” said Betty’s friend, the Irish designer. I think they made a good point. Fashion is wonderful for the soul. It’s important to look good not only when you are not wearing any clothes but also when you are buried under layers upon layers of fabric. Isn’t that the reason why some people take ages to get out of the house? There’s the face to think about. There are shirts and skirts to worry about. The perfect pair, the right hair and when you are on a date the right underwear. When we finally get out of the door, it’s the perfect us. Made up and infinitely improved like a Photoshoped photograph. I guess it’s only natural because for us non-models, the street is our runway and the compliments that we get are the headlines.


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