If you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting me in person, I’m sure you’ve noticed two things:
- I’m strangely awkward for someone in a very interpersonal field of work. Think nervous giggles and Ashlee Simpson dances…
- I’m either wearing some form of spandex (most likely yoga pants) or jeans.
The black stretchy ones are my favorite. They’re always nice to me. They’re always comfortable and they always fit.
The blue denim ones not so much.
I have one pair of jeans that fit every day no matter what. The rest fall into these categories: Jeans that don’t fit after a heavy squat day. Jeans that don’t fit after a week of eating these. Jeans that never really fit, but I forced myself to wear anyway.
I hate buying jeans because I hate trying on jeans.
(image from Pinterest)
Why do I hate trying on jeans, you ask? Well, first of all, who actually likes trying on jeans? Second of all, I hate trying on jeans because I’m afraid the “right” size won’t fit. Third of all, no jeans actually “fit” me: they’re always too big in the waist and too small in the hip/butt/thigh region. (Do these squats make my butt look big?)
My whole life, I’ve based whether I buy a pair of jeans on that number on the tag instead of how they actually fit me.
Why? Because they WILL fit me.
They WILL fit me AFTER I (fill in the blank).
I usually filled the blank with “lose 10 pounds.”
My whole life, I’ve based whether I buy a pair of jeans mostly on that number on the tag instead of how they actually fit me.
I was in desperate need (well, maybe not desperate) of new jeans that fit me no matter what. Due to my fear of trying on jeans, I haven’t actually bought new non-black-stretchy-pants in over a year.
In the past three years, I’ve done a pretty good job of healing my relationship with my body. After reading this post, I realized that even though I love my body more than ever, I’m still torturing myself by holding on to my jean size.
I had a stupid fear of having to buy a size bigger.
Now, I say stupid because the reason I probably NEED a size bigger is because of my, ahem, strong legs. I think it’s stupid that my awesome legs, that allow me to do so much (like get a new back squat 1 rep max of 215 lbs in my basement YAY!), are forced to squeeze into pants that don’t fit them.
(Image from Lift Big, Eat Big)
When I get serious with myself, I’d much rather wear comfortable clothes than clothes that make me walk around like the peg leg pirate from Family Guy.
So. I went jean shopping. I found a pair of Levis on sale for $15.00. They didn’t have my usual size, so I got the next size up, which happen to be fit me better than “my size”. My jean size, just like my weight, does not define me. It’s not like a was a better person because I had a smaller pant size…what does size matter? I’m healthy. I’m strong and, most importantly, I’m happy with my body more often than not.
My point is this: the old me wouldn’t have bought them at all because they didn’t have my ideal size. It might sound crazy, but it was hard for me…baby steps, my friends. Baby steps.
Post Script: I feel like a giant hypocrite writing this post–because I’m always saying “love your shape” and stuff, and now I’m showing you that I didn’t totally love my own shape.
I decided to write this post because I’m not perfect. I’m a work in progress. I have issues just like everyone has issues. If this post inspires you to go buy comfortable jeans, then that’s wonderful. If it finally proves to you that I’m not the super human you thought me to be, well, good. The pressure of being perfect was getting to be too much anyway *sarcasm*