When your jeans start fitting…

…you get bold and take out from long years of storage jeans you havent been able to get past your knee since the child was a zygote and try to haul yourself into them, little realising that they were meant for a body that had not see the travails of pregnancy and childbirth and total lack of diligent diet and exercise.

And then, when you realise they have now actually reached a level when they can be pulled up to thigh level from the earlier roadblock which had them at the knees, you pack them away ruefully. You know they are classic and timeless and will never go out of fashion, or so you hope and pray thinking of the kings ransom plus your teeth fillings you forked out to the cashier to buy said pair because it had an Italian couturier duo’s initials on the butt, never mind if the duo have now separated professionally but still make amazing collections and perfumes.

You think hard about how you could probably make yourself fit into said pair, short of slicing off layers of fat from your hips and thighs and come to the very sensible and practical conclusion that the jeans have shrunk in storage and need to be kept hanging on a hanger in the wardrobe and periodically when the cupboard opens to swell to wearable proportions. So you do that. And you decide you will try again the very next day, on a whim, to check whether the pair has expanded sufficiently in order to contain your thunder thighs comfortably and realise that no, air molecules havent entered the warp and the weft of said garment in order to render it wearable. You are convinced this is a conspiracy to deprive you of the pleasure of wearing said pair of denims and try yet again to twist self, aka Sridevi of Nagina, in snake woman like fashion into pair. One manages by sheer dint of will to get the pair up to the waist level but cannot still get the buttons and the zip to come together. But one knows that there is absolutely no danger of said pair falling off one’s hips, and one needs to run out on an errand almost immediately and is too exhausted to contemplate wriggling out the very instant one has got into pair. Therefore one pulls on a long dark thick top. One that ends at mid thigh level. And sashays out of the house. Pretty chuffed with self and praying that the wind doesnt get into a fury.

Am seriously thinking inserts would do the trick here. And tunic tops.