Dear beloved readers,

Anyone else feeling extra empty now that Love is Blind is done? No? Just me? ‘Kay…

Well, safe to say Winter has arrived, in that unforgiving cold way it always does. Long gone are the days of summer dresses and strappy shoes, ’tis the season of layers upon layers and boots so thick a bullet couldn’t get through them. And it’s bittersweet. I miss the warmth of a summer afternoon walk to 7/11 to buy vapes and mini m&m’s, but I enjoy the cold and being in the comfort of my apartment binge watching a show and just, enjoying my own company. 

Well, I feel like maybe it’s a collective feeling but every time this season approaches, and I mean like the Holidays approach, I get very nostalgic. And I don’t mean reminiscing the old days and missing certain people, I almost get nostalgic about the present, if that makes sense. Time has been flying by in ways that I cannot even grasp, and sometimes, I just wish time would hang in there and let us all be. I guess that’s precisely what time does, isn’t it? But I guess my true wish is for it to stay still, just for a little bit, so I could live in an infinite moment where nothing will change, at least for a while.

Impossible wishes apart, I do have good news regarding yet another thing that a month ago felt impossible. So, can we talk about how if you are a woman, buying jeans is worst than getting a lobotomy? I mean, come on now! A revolting experience to buy a piece of clothing that is designed to drive us all collectively insane, I am sure. If you order a size large, they assume you are tall – and not simply just curvy – and give you a pair that will close right bellow the boob area and don’t even get me started on how the leg length could fit a whole ‘nother person. 

I’ve always had a problem finding jeans that fit me perfectly, and to make matters worse, I’ve always been very against the whole idea of going to a store and trying clothes in a fitting room. It’s a personal thing, I hate it, can’t do it. So online shopping it usually is, meaning, a lot more room for disappointment and unpleasant surprises. But then there’s always that one time, that somehow you get it right. It happened to me in the early days of 2020, and when I tell you I thought I had just received a miracle, ala Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants, I am not saying that lightly.

I wore those jeans so often and basically everywhere for almost three years. Especially when I moved to the United States and the weather did actually get cold, I needed those jeans more than ever. Their ripped style soon developed to a full on destroyed style, and next thing I know, the rips are migrating north to zones they are not allowed to exist. And then came the sewing, and it wasn’t good. I watched tutorial on Youtube after tutorial, and I had to redo it every few days because that’s how weak and unstable that was…

An epiphany later and I decided to mail the pair to my mom for her to fix it. Meaning, those jeans were going to see my mom again before I would. It took them a month to arrive to her, and another month for them to get back to me, but when they did arrive here, they were perfect – on top of perfectly sewed, they smelled like home. 

Even if the North hole, right where the sun doesn’t shine, was now perfect, the intentional rips along the legs that were already looking like that good ol’ destroyed style that makes you wonder if I’ve fought a war, were only getting worse. And a few weeks ago, when I had to squat down to get something in class, the rips basically called quits on me, and my entire leg became visible through the now one complete rip that covered the entire front of my pants – that looked more like a rag now.

I would recommend Zara to anyone for so many reasons, but please for the love of God, don’t buy jeans there. Nevermind that the pair I was so attached to, my miracle pair, is from there, but after the need for a new one, and going back to their website in attempt for a second miracle, I realized spotting a solar eclipse would perhaps be easier. 

The jeans they sent me were ridiculous. They were tagged as my size, but were perhaps five sizes bigger, just terrible. And it got worse when I told Big’s mom the whole situation and she took me there to exchange them. Zara’s employees have a reputation for a very well known reason and that’s not a secret. But the way we were treated there was…like my people would say: To fall the asshole from the ass.

Well, the miracle ended up coming in the form of store credit. 

But…because I usually have a hard time accepting defeat, I gotta tell you that the miracle came, and it came from Khloe Kardashian…I was, of course, watching the new season of The Kardashians and I had yet another epiphany: Oh, that’s right, Khloe actually sells jeans that are “meant to fit.”

I gave it a try, gave them yet more money, as if they need it, and let me fucking tell you if these don’t fit me like a goddamn glove. I’ve never looked so good in jeans and holy cow, I am fucking happy.

Well beloved readers, this was a little rant about nothing I guess, but I must say, the jeans industry is really cruel for not have patterned sizes and I think we should talk about that kind of bullshit more often. I will see you next week, stay safe and out of trouble but if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it. 

– Your Girl On The Go