Confessions of A Naughty Girl

My Ass Has Given Up on Me (And Finding It's Perfect Mate in Jeans)

Well, this is just pathetic. My ass has given out on me at 24 years of age. Have you ever heard of anything so sad?

One of the biggest adjustments to post-collegiate life (which seems farther and farther away, considering that I've now been out of college for three years) is that as soon as you walk off that campus, shiny new diploma in hand, your body says, "Hey bitch, thanks for abusing me for four years. I let you get away with it, but payback sucks. Good luck trying to do any of the following: get less than 8 hours of sleep a night, drink for longer than 4 hours at a time, engage in foreplay for longer than 20 minutes, go out more than two nights in a row, or doing any sort of squat or lunge in the hopes of toning, firming, and shrinking fat cells. Peace out."

I've had a long week, and all I've wanted to do all weekend was go shopping. I've earned it. I deserve to come home with a hefty shopping bag, chock full of shit I don't need and may never wear, to fill up my closet and make me feel good, right? Apparently wrong.

This evening, in the hopes of regaining any semblance of energy after a long week, my sister and I went denim shopping. If there's ever any one thing about women that sticks with a man, it should be the accepted knowledge that every girl spends her entire lifetime looking for two things: the perfect lipgloss, and the perfect pair of jeans. Those two items are like the Holy f*cking Grail as far as women are concerned. If I ever find the perfect pair or the best color of lipgloss, I will die a happy person...so happy, that I will insist that it be mentioned in my eulogy, or at least put on my headstone - "KA, b. 1980, lived fulfilled life thanks to Rock & Republic denim and MAC Lipglass."

So we went to Heaven, aka the Nordstrom's Saavy section. If heaven exists, I am convinced that one can eat at Fogo de Chao on an already-paid-for college meal plan and still fit into a pair of size 27 Citizens of Humanity jeans. Yes, this is what my heaven looks like.

Much to our dismay, the fitting rooms in the store were all sorts of shady - from the 12-angle mirrors right down to the horrendous flourescent lighting. I saw pockets and dimples and jiggles that I have never seen before on my body. I felt tears stinging my eyes, emotions wild, like a desperate housewife who has just discovered that her husband is f*cking the maid. How could my body betray me like this? Why are these pants giving me camel toe? Why is everything so low-rise? At what point did it become cool to display my bikini line along with my tank top and flip flops?

We left the store jaded and depressed, but oddly even more driven to continue the quest for the perfect pair of jeans. I will not let Nordstrom discourage me. I will soldier on until I find my match.

So we're going again tomorrow, because I will not let my ass win this one.

posted by KA @ 9:00 PM