Geezaree, talk about a loaded question! Ask Answer it, and depending on what you say and how you say it, you might just earn a smack upside the head.

Let’s talk “fat jeans”, not “phat” jeans. The first one is not good. The second one is v e r y good.

This weekend I was on a tear and totally cleaned out our closet, my part, anyway. It’s a decent sized walk-in, clothes can hang on three sides. To the right and left, there are two rows for hanging, dead ahead just one for full-length clothing, to accommodate my evening gowns and fur coats (ha!).

While I loathe this chore, the result is always worth it. Everything is sorted by Season first, then type, and I go so far as to arrange color, too. Note, I draw the line at alphabetizing my clothes, so this is not an O-C act. My sweaters seem happier living with sweaters, my pants delight in hanging around with their two-legged counterparts, and so on. Ahhh, yes…order to the universe, AND…I can actually find what I’m looking for.

The most difficult part of this exercise is purging. I feel like I owe my clothes some debt of gratitude or something, like I’m obligated to keep them until they wear out. This is both a stewardship issue (for me) and for some items, I’ve developed a weird relationship with them–I CAN’T get rid of them because of the emotional attachment.

Sometimes I’m a freak that way.

Yesterday morning, it was COLD for these parts, the lowest of the season. I needed heavy jeans, not a pair of some of my lighter weights. So, I grabbed a pair I knew I hadn’t worn in a long time.

Apparently a VERY long time.

I pulled them on and almost immediately knew something was wrong. They were “heavy”, yes, but my first thought was I had accidentally hung a pair of Tad’s pants with my pants. I am used to a tighter fit, because, for the most part, they’re DESIGNED to fit that way (and it doesn’t hurt to have added 5 pounds, either). Not this pair, the legs were HUGE, there was room in the rear, and although the waistline was below my belly button, they felt like they were nearing my chin.

And then I realized what was going on.

I had on my “fat jeans”, jeans that fit the first winter I lived in Tennessee, jeans that fit the last winter in South Carolina, JEANS THAT IN SPITE OF MY ADDED FIVE POUNDS DON’T FIT ANYMORE! WAAAHOOOO!!!

I almost took them off. But you know what? I kept ’em on. All day. They might not have looked good, but they felt good. It reminded me of where I was “then” and where I am “now”…not just literally, but figuratively as well. (Hmmm, now I’m punning all over the place! Call me a Pamela wannabe). Maybe fat jeans ARE the better choice. Everyone needs a pair that can cheer ya up like this :).

Hmmmm. Yessiree, I might not’ve looked phat on the outside, but I was all that–and more–on the inside!

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