Mom Jeans: A friendly Response

Dearest Rachel,  a.k.a. the mom-jean expert,

Ima keep it real with you. Your expositional post on mom-jean manufacturers took me through the full range of emotions.

I laughed. I cried. I sweat with conviction. And a small part of my soul died when I raced to the mirror to come face to face with the cold hard reality- I was in fact, wearing mom jeans. For the love of cheese, I'm only 25!

I ran to my bedroom and sifted through my drawers, pulling out mom-jean after mom-jean. Quickly, I changed into a pair of yoga pants- my only escape. Then I sat down with a cup of coffee to rethink my life. These are the conclusions that I came to.

1. I really can't afford to buy designer jeans. After I had my last pup, a friend of mine came over and dropped off a whole box full of (the right size) jeans. They were free!! Is there anything better than a free pair of jeans? And I had seen her wear them. They were cute. They were boot cut. They were within the realm of cute-mom possibility. I put them on with pride and wore them in style, knowing that I didn't spend a dollar. My point? I haven't had a hair cut in six months. My kids need new shoes, and spring is springin early- which means seasonal clothes shopping is imminent. So at the risk of sounding like a tighty. of all the things that I need to be spending money on, designer jeans are (sadly) just not one of them.

2. I rock the mom-jeans. Let's face it, even at 25 years of age, once your body has carefully crafted, grown and delivered 3 munchkins... there are things about those curves that will never, ever be the same. That being said, I haven't completely let myself go, and in the spirit of honesty, I don't mind admitting that I look pretty dern good for a mom of three. It's true, my curves don't reflect the tautness and sprightliness of my youth, but they do give props to a woman with life-experience, and poise. And there is something to be said about the 'girl next door' who can pull off a loose sweater and a ponytail. I bet she can rock the mom jeans as well. That's what I'm going for here: comfortable in my own skin- comfortable in the mom-jeans.

3. There isn't enough time in the day for me to spend a second of it worrying about my booty. Right now, I'm sitting at my computer with my third of coffee of the day, on borrowed time. I should be doing math with the 6 year old, but instead I'm here...airing out my conscience.  The little people are running around like wild monkeys, ripping open cereal boxes with their teeth, and squeezing toothpaste onto my white duvet cover. I barely had time to take a shower this morning and put on clean clothes, let alone worry about what I'm wearing. What am I wearing? So as someone who barely has time to just take care of those daily essentials like brushing teeth and going to the bathroom, when on earth would I find time to actually go shopping? And if I did, I would have to take the critters with me- to the utter dismay of the college-aged store clerk. And let's be frank, shall we? I'd rather sit at home in sweat pants then face that kind of emotional trauma. To use the common, but very appropriate 'new' phrase. Ain't nobody got time f' dat.

I sincerely hope that I don't come across unappreciative of the hard work that you are doing in raising awareness among the multitudes of mom-jean wearing women out there. I am not happy living in oblivion, and now feel like I can make the educated decision to live among the stylistically challenged laity. But I am happy in my station in life, and I am happy setting a precedent and becoming a trend-setter. I'm nothing if not a first-rate hipster. And I think you'll see...the young people will soon be coming in hoards to get their hands on the stylish-workmanship of the mom-jean. Until then, I wear them loud. And proud.

Peace, yo.

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