Gah, kill me now.
I bought skinny pants. I know. I know. I've obviously lost my mind. But look, I bought these boots you see. Adorable winter boots, with a little faux fur at the top and a chocolate brown galosh bottom. They'll be awesome for trekking down the hill by my house once the ice starts up. And you know, for looking cute. I put them on with a pair of jeans the other day, but like a good, body-concious, fashion-foward woman, all my pants are bootleg or flare, and so they bunched like a mother around my calf. Unpresentable.
Skinny pants go against every grain of fashion sense I have. I may have a rack that a thirteen year old girl wouldn't envy, but I've got these hips, you see, and skinny pants are made specifically to accentuate this womanly part of the body, a place where I've already got enough to spare. If you've still got the body of an adolescent boy, like all these hipster girls that covet the skinny pant/black ballet flat look, then hoo-baby, these things are like the second coming. They'll invent curves you never dreamed of having, but for me, it's like pear-city. You should have seen me cringing in the dressing room. Swearing to myself that a pair of flats would never see daylight under these things. I felt the sudden need to confess as I passed them to the check-out lady. I swear, they're only for my big fat boots! She was thinking, that girl's gonna poke someone's eye out with those hips. Noooo.
But I got them. They were cheap, and even cheaper with a $20 off discount they were having. They also kind of show my ass crack. Flattering. Long shirts and big boots are about to become staples of my wardrobe.