I’m trying to get fatter. I’m not emaciated or anorexic or anything; I’m actually pretty normal sized. I just want to get fat so I can have a distinguished gut. To accomplish this I’ve started exclusively drinking Bakon, the bacon-infused vodka, and invented a new meal between brunch and lunch. I’ve also stopped lying about how much I exercise. I never exercised at all, but all the lying I was doing required a lot of effort, which burned precious calories. While getting fatter isn’t easy, I’m enjoying doing it. I’ve just got one problem: my goddamn skinny genes… err jeans.
Whenever I try to put on weight it first starts to show in my thighs and ankles. My thighs are thunderous and my calves are cows! Sadly, my gut doesn’t start to get Buddha-esque till much, much later. This is a nightmare if you wear skinny jeans. While they’re fine around my waist, the legs are literally exploding at the seams every time I go out for a second dinner. Think it’s embarrassing when you can’t do up the button on your jeans? How do you think I feel when I can’t pull a new-ish pair of jeans up past my knees?
Oh sure smarty pants, you’re probably thinking “Why don’t you just start wearing non-skinny jeans.” That would be a great idea, except for one thing. Once you have worn skinny jeans you cannot ever go back.
Don’t believe me? Wear skinny jeans for a few months then try switching back and you’ll see what I mean. I dare you! Normal fit jeans may look fine to those around you. The nice lady who is trying to sell them to you may even tell you how great they look and won’t be lying. You may even buy a pair and take them home. But shortly after you come home and put them on again you will come to the conclusion that something is not right.
Doesn’t matter if it’s a relaxed, a loose fit or boot cut. It will seem like you are wearing bellbottoms or phat pants and you will feel like a jackass. It’s not like people will be heckling you on the streets—you’ll look quite normal to those around you. But the inner monologue in your head will gradually cripple your self-esteem and you’ll eventually end up hucking them in one of those Salvation Army dumpsters.
I don’t normally care about such things. The holes in all my clothes should be a testament to that. I’m not trying to be fashionable with all the rips in my shirts and jeans. I’m cheap and I just don’t really care what people think about my clothes (or so I thought). But trying to get off skinny jeans has become a tremendous source of stress in my life.
It’s not like I one day made up my mind that skinny jeans are the direction I want to go for the rest of my life. The people who sell them really should issue a warning that once indoctrinated there is no regressing.. It doesn’t have to be a big one like they have on packs of cigarettes. Just a tiny removable tag next to where the brand label is would suffice.
I was merely trying on a few pairs of jeans and it just so happened that the ones that looked best on me were skinny. It was a momentary lapse in judgement. I mean really, they’re not even comfortable. So I bought them and now I’m shackled to them for the rest of my life. I’ll probably be wearing skinny sweatpants when I get old and move down to Florida. I guess in the meantime I could always get some lipo done on my fat calves.
published september 2009 in ion magazine
Photography: Toby Marie Bannister www.tobymarie.com