It’s the first bit of real spring weather, I’m functioning on way too little sleep, and my obsessions are totally superficial today. Why does the onset of warm weather make you want to throw out everything you’ve ever worn and start fresh? Anyway, on to my obsession: White Jeans. I love them. Let me rephrase – I love them on other people. They scare the hell out of me, for any number of reasons – only one of which is that no one has ever called them ‘slenderizing.’ Frankly, I’ve just never had the nerve. But in a damn-the-torpedos moment, I ordered two pairs (love James Jeans) – in two sizes. I have 3 weeks to return one pair. Of course, I’d like to keep the smaller size. What think? Would this incentivise you or demoralize you (or both?) (Then again, this could be why God created tunics.) PS – The photo? Definitely not me.
Clearly see my obsession with white jeans has spilled over into my fiction. In Best Intentions, the narrator, Lisa, and her best friend, Deirdre, have this exchange over breakfast one morning:
“I’m trying these seaweed capsules,” Deirdre says.
“I thought we agreed, no diet drugs.”
“They’re not a drug. They’re completely natural. They’re from Germany,” she emphasizes. “You take three before every meal. “hey’re supposed to expand in your stomach and make you feel full. The only potential side effect, according to the box, is the risk of choking to death if one accidentally expands in your throat on the way down.”
“That would certainly prevent you from over-eating. Do they work?”
“Who knows? My stomach is so bloated from them that I couldn’t zip my jeans this morning.”
I glance at Deirdre, who is, in fact, wearing jeans. White jeans. And looks quite thin. As always.
“These are a different pair,” Deirdre explains. “My fat jeans.”
I roll my eyes. “There is no such thing as ‘fat’ white jeans. It’s a complete oxymoron.”