I'm beginning to wonder... What is the truth about skinny jeans?
Right now I'm wearing my tight-hugging, thigh-wrapping, tummy-pressing, and ball-crushing skinny jeans. Skinny jeans have been all the rage in fashion these days, maybe next to tights (for women only and for brave men). Riding on this fashion wave, I scoured some ukay-ukay stalls at the Taft Avenue station of the MRT a month ago to look for the ultimate skinny jeans. The womens' jeans section are the only racks I can go to. Definitely the men's pants are out of the question.
Doing ukay-ukay of course is not the most pleasant shopping experience for most people. I find it as the ultimate retail heaven though. So off I was flipping through the jeans that smell of newly-minted ukay-ukay laced with dust and whatnot. I grabbed a pair of Uniqlo women's jeans that I figured would fit me. In a fitting room as tiny as a shoebox I forced my self into women's jeans, tucking my stomach and tugging the jeans up my thighs. With hardly any breath left from all the effort I still mustered a sly pout. The jeans wrapped my legs just perfectly while I was totally oblivious of the discomfort. Operation skinny jeans accomplished with a budget of P180. The next day, my sister and I were lured by the ukay-ukay store near our apartment. This time grabbed I another pair of ultra skinny jeans to the tune of, again, P180.
I was convinced that the skinny jeans look fabulous on me. My thin, long legs are accentuated and I actually have a butt sticking from my usually flat behind. I know something's wrong with me and skinny jeans though when fifteen minutes into wearing it I was almost out of breath. I was tucking my tummy the whole time. But I figured I was still adjusting to it so still off I went to the office proudly strutting in my ukay-ukay find.
Riding the jeep however was an ordeal as I could hardly bend my knees. Ditto for taking the hike up the stairs of the MRT station. I was practically hopping my way up while maintaining some semblance of composure. Sitting in the train I felt the jeans hike a bit to my waist, hence pressing my tummy beyond discomfort. I was virtually on the verge of asphyxiation. And my balls... oh, my balls, they were crushed to inftertility.
At the office (like right now), I'm sitting in front of the PC the whole day with the waist band of jeans pressing deeper into my tummy until I had no choice but to open the top button. I could hardly bend my knees so I keep my legs streched in front of me. My balls have gone numb. Every five minutes I had to tug my pants here and there to make the whole ordeal more bearable (just like what I did a minute back).
Despite all the discomfort, I'm not about to be daunted. I'm going to stand proud and pretty in these jeans no matter what... because I know I look fabulous in them. Who said beauty was never painful? But I know what to do when I arrive home at the end of the day. I'm going to pluck my self from these jeans and simply breath.
(1) and (2) The Sartorialist... definitely the best street-style blog on blogdom!
(3) Helsinki Looks
(4) Stockholm Street Style