Perhaps because the sun was shining yesterday, Friday, and I was still on a high from my “Good Morning America” and paparazzi appearances just the day before on Thursday morning (yes, I was snapped by the “paps”) when I
stalked and swooned over Ricky Martin and the cast of EVITA, I lost my mind.
Here’s the story:
ZARA, the Spanish (from Spain–yes) clothing store opened their New York flagship on Fifth Avenue about a month ago, but I hadn’t been in it. Since it is conveniently steps away from my office, I decided, why not see what they’re all about? After all, I, unlike others, stick to a strict budget — and I’m quite proficient with finding ways to save. You can say, I am thrifty. If I haven’t said it a million times, it’s 999,999 times: “I can rub two shekels together to make dollar.” Yes, thrifty and a miracle-worker. I can easily walk into a clothing store (not a shoe store) and actually look around and walk out willingly empty-handed.
You see, I have something others don’t have: Self Control.
So, I’m looking at the 3 blouses, a pair of “juzzz’d” up cargo pants and skinny jeans that I purchased in what can only be the Devil’s Paradise — because I was sucked in, lost my mind and have the receipts to prove it (yes, “receipts”, plural — because first, I went there in the afternoon and bought three items, and then went back and bought two more). Sigh.
But let’s not dwell on the obvious breakdown with Self Control. Let’s talk about the skinny jeans.
I have never, ever, ever-ever bought a pair of “skinny jeans”. Skinny jeans are for skinny people. Sure, again, I know I am considered “skinny” by most, but frankly, I’m short and petite, but not “skinny”. I’m not some fine-boned waif model-looking chick. I look like a real person only “vertically-challenged”. So, not because I’m short and small am I okay with wearing things that look like they should be headbands and not skirts, or blouses that some stores claim to be dresses.
Back to the skinny jeans. The first pair — yes, the first pair — were a sight to see. I tried putting them on. Tried. I caught a glimpse of myself in the very large, and very real mirror in the dressing room. My backside bulging one way, and my bellies (yes, plural again), going another — rolling over the waist band of my stockings.
I know what you’re thinking: So sexy.
After 5 minutes of what could only be a cruel, cruel, cruel joke, I gave up when the “skinny jeans” refused
and laughed in my face with its reflection laughing at me in the very large mirror to go past my thighs.
So, I poked my head out of the dressing room and asked “Toothpick-Sized Dressing Room Girl” with ear-piece like the Secret Service to grab the next size up. She leaves, returns and I engage in the art of the “Skinny Jeans Dance”. A few hops here, a few tugs there, and finally, they’re on, zipped and buttoned.
I look in the mirror and admire the way they really seemed to suck me in, like a girdle
and give me that feeling of light-headedness. Funny, I never knew they could work this way…
Skinny Jeans…I’m wondering, should my eyes be bulging when I put them on?
I don’t know if this is the “normal” effect, but as long as I wear a blouse or shirt that covers my bellies, then, we are good to go. A pair of bulging eyes can be camoflauged by a fabulous pair of sunglasses.
Now, all I have to remember to do is:
- Stay away from that wicked, wicked store (except to go for the blouse that they didn’t have in the size that I wanted which I will buy as soon as I can get to the other ZARA store on Monday or Tuesday).
- Don’t eat while wearing said “skinny jeans”.
- As a matter of fact, don’t move or don’t move as much when wearing said “skinny jeans” — just concentrate on posing while wearing my platforms.
- Don’t stand next to any females who can still wear short-shorts in the summer and their thighs don’t rub together.
As long as I keep all of the above in mind. I’m gonna be rockin’ those skinny jeans.
Yes – I – Am.
P.S. I’m going to see EVITA on Broadway tonight for the second time (yay!) with a few Ricky Martin fans. I’m wearing my cargo pants, one of the blouses and my 5″ platform wedges. No — can’t wear the skinny jeans. Please, I wouldn’t be able to sit down in the theatre seats. Can you imagine?