There is nothing good about freshly washed jeans.
I will wear them until I HAVE to wash them.
Does that make me gross?
I don't think so...I think it makes me smart.
So, how would my life be if I never washed my jeans?
- My thighs would feel comfortable. They wouldn't feel like sausage entering the casing at a Hillsh.ire Farms packing plant (go meat!). That (and the way I got into my jeans today) can be uncomfortably violent to watch!
- My ass would forget that the Muffin Man has been doing some serious "baking" to get the top of the ass all the way over the waist of my jeans! Yes...I consider the Muffin area part of my ass. As far as I'm concerned, most of my body issues stem from my ass. I blamed my cankles on my ass during pregnancy.
- My ass would never have to say, "have these pockets always been this small?"
- My legs wouldn't have to do the involuntary squats that it takes to pack all of the thigh meat into the jeans.
- I would feel like I was wearing my pajamas...yummy.
- My stomach would forget that I ever had twins...and the lovely wrinkly elephant knee that now resides on my tummy to go along with that! Instead, my tummy is bisected in ways that should never really happen. I am cursing the day that I asked my tailor to take these in (stupid non-pregnant skinny girl that I used to be). I may send him hate mail...haha...just kidding!
- I would still actually believe I lost weight!
I will never wash my jeans again...
I will never pick up a child while wearing my jeans (OMG...this is where I start lying...imagine that I never picked up a child while wearing jeans...I'd be screwed!), therefore risking a stain that would result in washing my jeans.
That's how this nightmare started in the first place...I took Matt out of his highchair after lunch and didn't realize (as I slid him slowly to the floor...him laughing the whole time...he thought it was hysterically funny...and it was...) that there was a carrot placed directly between his legs. So, as his slid down my tummy and leg, the highly pigmented carrot did too...nice.
So, while it was great to see him laugh his way to the floor, the horror that crossed my face while realizing that my jeans would HAVE to go into the wash must have been really confusing for him.
The big question...how often do you wash your favorite jeans???
Disclaimer: I know there are worse things that could happen in my life. I know that there are more serious issues I could blog about (for instance, the fact that some school district in the mid-West canceled their prom b/c a student wanted to bring her girlfriend and wear a tux...let the lesbians have their night too...who cares?). However, I also know that this an issue that many women deal with and should be discussed, right? Are those crickets I hear? I hope not!!!