Ahhh summer ... Shorts, dresses, playclothes, all loose and stretchy. Love it. As fall sets in and tans fade, it's time to cover up. It's not even October yet and I'm as scared as can be, haunted house, black cat, witches and mummies scared. It's time to face it: I have to put my jeans back on.
I'm not sure what happens in my drawer over the summer. Does the heat shrink the fabric fibers? Do the cotton molecules go into some strange, miniaturizing hibernation? Do tiny, evil fairies sneak in and take int the seams with tiny, invisible, evil thread? I'm not sure but I know something happens.
Every fall I go through the same routine. I wait until near freezing before I give in to the covered up fashions of fall. Sure, I may shiver constantly (maybe it will burn extra calories). I circle around the issue, sporting leggings and yoga pants. Then one day, as inevitable as the changing leaves, I have to face the denim. For most people, summer is the easy time to keep weight off. It should hold true for me as I exercise more, play outside until dark and eat salads. But, I also love summer cocktails and quick summer snack foods. Ice cream on a warm summer evening. Candies popped in my mouth between volleyball games. I am almost always larger at the end of summer than at the beginning.
Opening the jeans drawer, I have to check all the tags and try to remember which are forgiving, which are for skinny days and which were just plain stupid but were on sale. The denim feels thick and foreboding. I wait until the last possible second to dress. I step in, one foot, then the next, holding my breath. I know sometime around mid-thigh what I'm up against. Screw it. Up over the hips. Then, do they button? How much spillover? Can I even breath? I don't know just yet because I'm still dancing around the issue, freezing my butt off. Am I the only one afraid of jeans in the fall?