Monday, October 30, 2017

The Case of the Missing Jeans

Forever 21 Kimono (old similar here & here) | Blank NYC Jeans | Forever 21 Mules (old, this year’s version) | H&M Necklace | B2B Belt

When I was pregnant last fall, we moved up north around the beginning of my second trimester. It was just about the time I was beginning to ‘show’, so a lot of my clothing I packed away and sent to my parents’ attic since I knew I wouldn’t be needing it for a long time. However, I was lucky and able to get a little more wear out of some of my clothes for a bit longer, including most of my favorite jeans (bless those little hair elastics and long cami tanks, they did their best for so long). Sadly, that didn’t last forever and I finally had to pack up the rest of my jeans and some other things that I knew I just wouldn’t fit into/care about for awhile a couple months after we moved.
Flash forward to the end of this summer. I can fit back into my old clothing and we’re beginning to pack for yet another move. In doing so, I’m also going through all the pre-pregnancy clothes I had yet to unpack and bursting with glee that I can now wear things that aren’t a couple of grubby tees and some now-baggy jeans I bought to get myself through the spring. Clearly I don’t quite grasp the concept of packing as things have a way of unpacking themselves when I do it. I’ll say it a thousand times -- James is a lucky man.
ANYWAY, I cannot for the life of me find that final box of clothing I packed. The one with all my favorite jeans! I lament about this quite a lot to almost anyone who will listen. I search my parents’ attic, I search James’ parents’ attic. I cannot find that damn box. My mother asks if I’ve looked here, because this box seems to have your clothing in it. Yes, mother, those are my clothes, however they are not the clothes. Well, what about this box, aren’t those jeans? Uhh yes, mother, those are jeans, just not the jeans. Insert embarrassed grinning emoji face.
I’ll cut to it, for about 2 months it becomes a personal saga. Every time I unpack a box at the new place or visit one of our parents’ houses, my coworkers/parents/strangers ask if I found them. I never do. I’m quite ornery about it and complain loudly. It’s quite an injustice that of all the boxes to go missing in action, my beloved jeans would be in the one that does. Yes, those other jeans are perfectly fine, but they’re the, like, tighter ones. You know? The jeans you have for those elusive skinny days, but 95% of the time they’re just uncomfortable and why are you even keeping them-type of jeans. I want the good jeans!
Everyone, save for me, is tired of this until two heroes emerge within a couple days of each other: my mother and James, naturally. First, James asks if I’ve looked in my parents’ basement in a certain location. Secondly, my mother is looking for something else in that exact location and BAM! The box is found! Salvation! And oh it’s so good. Not only were my jeans in there, but a bunch of other tops and skirts that I had kind of assumed I’d donated in a pregnancy-fueled purge and then just forgotten about because that’s how pregnancy works. But no! They were there. Including this kimono and (obviously) these jeans.
See how I tied it all together?
So it’s case closed on the denim files and everyone [me, mostly] wins!



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