I did something daring today.
I bought the tightest jeans in the universe. I have been admiring the buttocks of many a gal strutting around San Francisco in the ever famous “Seven” jeans, but always thought, “I’m too… old, big arsed, poor, to wear those.”
Until today. Because yesterday I had a revelation.
My friend Maggie and I were discussing the following incredible irony: That we don’t realize until NOW (30 something years old) that we looked HOT when we were in high school. Our butts were NOT as big as we thought, our legs were NOT thundering across the hallways, and NO ONE was even thinking about it as much as we were.
What a waste of time! All of those diets and lowfat chips and diet coke and barfing in the bathroom and wearing baggy clothes and tying a sweatshirt around the waist to conceal the arse. (Or maybe that was just me?)
We look at our photos from that time and think, “Wow. I really was okay. In fact, I was more than okay. I was BEAUTIFUL and I never enjoyed it. My friend Rob says something brilliant on this subject:
“Love your body. Everyone else does!”
So in the spirit of that, in the spirit of the best thing Maggie’s mom ever told her, “You’ll never look as good as you do right at this moment!” I bought myself a pair of the tightest jeans I could find. These jeans are so tight that if I’m not careful, I will be displaying a generous amount of butt cleavage on the BART train.
Brittany Spears would be proud.
And so would my 17-year-old self. Because, dammit. I’ll never look as good as I do right at this moment.