IN DEFENSE OF MOM JEANS:
I have been annoyed, yet tolerated the low-rise pants for women. It is odd this cut ever made it in the fashion industry because even for skinny women, it hits right at your hips and creates what is called ‘muffin top’. The zipper is a tiny thing that is barely an inch in length and you wonder why it is even there. I have talked to so many women who have agonized over the spillage of their hips and how this unflattering cut has lasted longer than it should have.
I am slender and was able to pull it off, but I never liked it. I have always loved high waisted pants because I have a long enough torso and a flat stomach so that it is flattering. Yet as I have gotten older I have found that having pants that give mid section coverage to my stomach actually feels more comfortable. The older I get the less willing I am to be uncomfortable, ever.
When you are young, you will go to the club wearing very little in the dead of winter and you don’t care if you freeze to death. When you are young you suffer in 3 or 4-inch heels 8 hours a day at work because it looks awesome. Yet as you mature as a woman, you begin to judge your quality of life in hours, not days. You begin to think things like- Can I really stand in this line for an hour without getting to sit? Do I really want to be on this uncomfortable bus with no A/C? Then when it comes to attire, if you are me- then your highly developed sense of aesthetic takes over… until it doesn’t. I will not sacrifice aesthetic for comfort, but I will go to great lengths to merge the two and forfeit a particular look if it is excruciatingly painful, but still look sick AF.
I bought my first pair of non-running shoes last year to actually wear in public. They are classic black Adidas. I remember putting them on in the store and being blown away how good they felt. I also had to swallow my Kara pride because it wounded my ego to wear them instead of clogs, hand made sandals or some other badass shoe.
My daughter bought a pair of Mom jeans over the winter holiday while I was visiting her in Chicago. They looked awesome on her and she loved how comfortable she was. The skinny jean certainly looks flattering and with the added stretch factor, any body type looks good in them. Yet, I found that it resembled a straight jacket and that feeling of a straight jacket reminded me of a deeper psychiatric context for feeling miserable due to poor choices. I quit wearing my skinny jeans and would occasionally wear one of three pairs of jeans that were either- Flare, Wide Leg or Boyfriend cut, yet distressed. Even if I were in yoga pants, when I would return home from practice with my yogi, I would immediately peel them off when I walked in the door of my home. I put on my jammie bottoms when my day ends. This could be as early as 3:00 in the afternoon, depending on the day.
Then it happened. I was in the brand new Urban Outfitters in Jerusalem and I saw what not only were Mom jeans, but they were a bit wide legged too. I had always wanted to own one pair, just to have the option. Why hadn’t I done it? Because my man, who was picky and close minded to me wearing anything other than yoga pants seemed to feel that Mom jeans were not flattering to any woman’s ass and certainly not Wide-Leg either. Our relationship ended months ago and it was horrid. I learned that everything I thought was true was a lie. The day I walked into Urban Outfitters and saw the monstrosity of these Mom-Wide-Leg jeans, a switch was flipped.
It was an act of rebellion
It was an act of liberation
It was an act of me doing what the fuck I wanted
It was an act to demonstrate my independence
It was an act to say fuck you, I am wearing this
It was an act to say, I want to be comfortable
I want to feel good instead of like shit
I tried them on and bought them hesitantly. These pants were truly the anti-sexy of denim wear. I needed anti-sexy and I needed it now. I wanted to know that there was an article of clothing that I could put on that would be a male deterrent. I wanted to know that there was a piece I could put on my body that would erase my own sex appeal. You see, I need to be dateless right now. I need to date myself. I got fucked over because I gave my trust to a person who lied to me for a year. So now, I need to recover and be alone. I don’t want to attract any man and I need to hit the reset button to my soul. These Mom jeans would become the icon of my healing.
I wore them to Tel Aviv one day with a sleeveless onesie. I managed to get through the day without being hit on and that felt like an achievement. I decided the pants had a special power to make me invisible. Simultaneously, it made me loathe the male species because I realized that if all I had to do was conceal my shape from the waist down, that made me unsexy. Are you kidding me? This style of jeans, which hides my ass and my thighs, is the reason men are leaving me alone? Wow, what assholes- Am I right ladies?
I went into a boutique and two Israeli women stuck up a conversation with me. They were like- “Wait, you are American?” I’m like- “Yeah, why?” They were like- “You look so cool, American’s don’t dress cool.” Hmm… Women dressing for women perhaps? Ok, I’m down.
Then suddenly before I was about to head home, I realized I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. Duh, when you are grieving that you were lied to for a year, you forget to eat. So, I stopped off at a public beach, sat down and ordered a big meal with a nice cocktail. I sat there basking in my ability to blend in for the first time in my life. I wanted to be invisible so that I could be unfuckwithable. I had finished my meal and was drinking a bottle of water to rehydrate for the journey back to Jerusalem. Suddenly I get a pop up on my iPhone saying so-and-so wants to airdrop you 10 photos and a video. For those of you, who do not have an iPhone, let me blow your mind.
Your camera roll can be shared with ANY iPhone user in close proximity. Those fellow iPhone users will AUTOMATICALLY pop up on your phone to share photos with you. This takes dating, rapey weirdness and sexting to a whole new level of wrong. So basically you can be chilling, minding your own business somewhere and suddenly a stranger will pop up on your phone wanting to send you presumably a bunch of dickpics. Yeah. That. Of course I declined.
When I payed my bill, I stood up to use the restroom and realized- hey, you’ve been sitting down this whole time. He never saw your Mom jeans. Now that I was walking away, I knew he would be looking at me and see this horrific, anti-sexy vaccine on my body. As I walked out of the restaurant, the guy that had been sitting next to airdrop dude came running up to me and said- “ hey, I think you forgot your purse.” I said-“ no, I have my purse right here.” But he knew that…