OH CORDUROY MY CORDUROY
When I was a kid, coming home from Catholic school on a Friday afternoon, armed with these awesome encyclopedia from the classroom that highlighted different countries and cultures (kind of like a Globe Trekker for little kids who were too young to go anywhere), the first thing I did before settling into my grand new adventure was get rid of the oppressive itchy plaid wool jumper and stiff white cotton Peter-Pan color shirt of my school uniform. I transformed my entire being when I slipped into my pink corduroy bell bottoms. There has never been a ten-year-old prouder or more attached to one pair of pants than I was to those bell bottoms (yes, this was the era of bell bottoms -- I was not that far off-trend). And once they were on, the comfy warmth and softness were all that I needed to put a serious wall between my week life of doing the bidding of God, nuns, teachers and piano teachers and my weekend life of freedom from any and all oppressors.
So when I found the multi-colored rack of soft and comfy corduroy skinny jeans at Target before the holidays, I started planning my shopping around how I was going to get one of each color. I bought the green ones first in a size way too big but that's okay -- they are like slipping into a warm soft clean sheets after a long day playing in the snow. (And they were on sale AND I had a coupon so Merry Christmas to me!) Then I found the brown ones on sale right after New Year's and snatched those up (most of the clothes in my closet cost $20 or less -- I only shop sales and clearance, never full price, can't afford it!).
Then, yesterday, on an exciting trip to get pharmaceuticals and Lactaid right after I dropped my daughter off at school, I found a gorgeous goldenrod-colored pair on the clearance rack, in a different "fit" size -- I usually get Fit 2, which comes right under your waist but these were Fit6 and they were going to fit differently but the general size was just about right so what the hell!? They were SIX DOLLARS and so pretty and . . . I knew I had to have them.
I took something else off my list (an expensive greeting card -- we could make our own!) and used that money to buy the clearance pants. I was so proud that I now had three pretty pairs of pants all for less than $35!
But I got them home. And washed them. And now they don't exactly FIT. THe FIT6 is a very different fit and my body doesn't seem to like that as much as the Fit2 so . . .
I can't bring them back. They were clearance! They sit folded, defiantly, on my chest of drawers, daring me to do something. What do they want me to do? How can I stretch them out? Do I need to wear Spanx under them to make them fit? Or is this one of those signs I'm always waiting for the universe to give me about what I should do next? Lose weight? Stop buying things that only cost $6? Get my niece the expensive greeting card because I already have two pairs of those pants? What do you think?
I should know the answers to some of these questions but I'm loathe to share them with you. I'll let you know about the cordutorys when the next sign tells me what to do with them.
