These are my (mom jeans) confessions


I recently bought jeans for the first time since high school. If you ever feel like your self esteem is too high, go out to American Eagle and buy pants for the first time in five years. Try them on under the fluorescent lighting, and pay close attention to the way the cellulite you’ve been ignoring suddenly hits up your thighs faster than your eyes can fill up with tears immediately following.


So I realized a couple things about my relationship with jeans, and how it’s changed in the past five years.

  • I love mom jeans. And I have a feeling this is a secret among many women. Mom jeans are very similar to the leggings I’d replaced denim with; they go up past your belly button, they cover that giant butt that goes half-way up my back and they stretch. I know, I know, just give me a fanny pack and call it a day.


  • I’ve gotten heavier since the last time I wore jeans. Not that big of a surprise to some people. But for someone who hasn’t weighed themselves since the 10th grade (and who specifically asks the nice nurse at her check-ups not to announce the number revealed on the scale), it was a pretty big blow. It’s not like I gained a whole buffalo’s worth, but it was jarring to realize that, no, Blayne, you don’t have the figure of a 12-year-old boy anymore, and Forever 21 will not be the place you shop forever. And, yeah, you’re going to fluctuate as you get older and (ugh) have kids. You’re aging, Peter Pan.


  • I have no idea how people coordinate an outfit with jeans. I’ve seen it happen; people successfully dress themselves everyday to make jeans look like a practical piece of clothing, and even like they meant to do it. But I have no idea how to get the right shoes, shirts and hairstyles into one outfit that includes jeans. Leggings aren’t a problem, just put on a large sweater/t-shirt, big boots or flats, and you’re set. But jeans function in a completely different way. I don’t know, I’m probably going to have to Google this a few times until I figure it out.


  • But I guess the good news is that jeans don’t look terrible on me. They do a pretty good job of encasing everything I have going on and making it all look like I take care of myself. When I have jeans on, I no longer look like a college student who just rolled out of bed. However, I need to work on not looking like I’m on my way to move my kid into their dorm. That’s just too many years in one pair of jeans.


  • I remember why I dislike wearing jeans so much, and cannot wait to get back in my leggings.



I want to work at my new job until I die



I always found it interesting that the human mind and body can adjust to almost anything to make it seem normal and routine. And I didn’t realize that, even though I actively looked for different jobs, my mind, body and expectations were beginning to accept the conditions of my last job as normal.

They weren’t.

The conditions of my last job didn’t make me feel valuable or appreciated, and resulted in me not taking care of or valuing myself. But here, at my new position, I feel not only valued, but respected, appreciated and included as well.

Obviously, this makes me happy. Like, I’m coming in several hours before my shift starts next week to participate in the holiday party. I’m that happy here.


I’m so excited to work here that I’ve started wearing makeup and doing my hair again. And, as bad as it sounds, primping myself for 30 minutes each morning has boosted my self-esteem, and even though I haven’t lost any weight, I feel better all over, too.


And everyone is so nice here! It’s probably my favorite thing about being back in Pa, to be treated like a human, and not like a stink bug. It was so weird to realize I’d actually come to expect to be treated like a stink bug by random people, that coming back here and being treated nicely felt awkward.


People were even nice when on my first day I brought in this concoction (it sounds gross, but it was oddly good) of mushrooms, mashed potatoes, salmon and corn, which stunk up the break room. I genuinely was not deserving of such kind forgiveness.


But anywho, I’m going to stay here until I die, so when I do that, I’ll be happy.