tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23640420.post-45366479452866896422007-01-16T02:42:00.000-05:002007-02-05T03:53:02.633-05:00<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_SBNOHMhrkjU/RayK1xtaIqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/asTIs4dhSSA/s1600-h/jean_pile.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5020540341092754082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_SBNOHMhrkjU/RayK1xtaIqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/asTIs4dhSSA/s320/jean_pile.jpg" border="0" /></a>What was I thinking? Was I really so upset about low-riding <em>pants</em> that I was going to drop $200 on couture jeans? I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">couldn't</span> really even give a good definition of couture... and I don't care enough to look it up.<br /><div></div><br /><div>What, if anything, did I learn from my high school days if not <em>damn</em> fine pants for <em>dirt</em> cheap prices can be found at Value Village? All it takes is hours of rifling through granny pants, skinny <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">capris</span>, and weird jeans with too many pockets all over them, and then being overcome by static cling in a change stall where you can only try 5 items on at a time, a dumb rule which I broke. tee <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">hee</span>!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Did I find <strong><em>one</em></strong> pair of jeans I like? No! I found two! And... I found 4 <em>more</em> pairs of pants, about <em>8</em> shirts, and 2 cute nighties. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Yay</span> me. I love my second-hand shopping skills.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I spent $115 and am revelling in my new wardrobe.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But I had a revelation tonight when I sat down to organize the shelf I keep my pants on. I didn't count how many I have, but I can see the shelf from where I sit now, and a rough estimate is that I have 20 pairs of pants, including the new-to-me ones, but <em>not</em> including the other 5 or so pairs hanging in my closet, nor the stack of 5 chill pants I wear on lazy days, nor the fine pair that graces my lounging ass as I write. oh, and of course, not my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">PJ</span> bottoms, or shorts.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The revelation is that I have developed an obsession with finding pants that "fit" my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">ostomy</span> so much that I am never satisfied and am always on the lookout. Like I always put my self into horrid pant-shopping experiences, despite the fact I often lose self esteem and get <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">pissy</span> when all I see in stores are pants that would make me look ridiculous, and despite the fact I have more than 30 pants.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I asked myself what <strong>the hell</strong> am I doing when I rarely have an <em>i-can't-find-a-pair-of-pants-to-wear</em> day, and even better, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">scarcely</span> live through an <em>oh-my-god-i-can't-believe-i-wore-these-pants-today</em> day.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'm glad I had my spree and am the happy owner of lots of pants I feel okay about wearing. But for me, the out-of-control pant-shopping buck stops here.</div>~mypinkbutton~http://www.blogger.com/profile/04181089087985770525noreply@blogger.com