Denim.

So I'm totally a jean girl. I'd wear them anywhere and much prefer them over stretchy pants that show my every lump and jiggle (kudos to you all who don't lump and jiggle and can get away with them).

Plus, I'm cheap. Well, really I'm broke, but cheap makes it sound like more of a choice. The point is that I wear my jeans to death because I hate buying new jeans.

Not that I don't like new jeans, it's just that by the time I get around to buying new ones, the stores have stopped carrying that particular fit and I have to try on like 15 new pairs to find a good fit. So I wear them to death.

And then I got a job.

And they told me what I was allowed to wear.

I think that I resented the fact that they were telling me what to wear more than the fact that I had to wear slacks, which says something about my mental state, but for purposes of discussion we're going to stick with slacks vs. jeans and the fact that I miss my jeans terribly. So terribly that I wore my oldest, most comfortable, holey kneed jeans to a fitting when I really should have been trying to make a good impression on the girl who brought in her expensive jeans and wanted me to shorten them 1/4 inch.

Delusional me thought I could get away with the holey jeans if I paired them up with a cute top and a slamming necklace. In hindsight, I'm pretty sure I should have put on a new(er) pair of jeans. I mentioned it to Fred the other day and he must have agreed but didn't want to say anything out loud and risk my wrath/hurt feelings because this morning I found the jeans in question in the trash.

I guess that means I should throw out the two pairs of shorts that were so holey kneed that I cut the legs off and kept wearing until they were showing through on the thighs while we're at it.

The funny thing is, as we were going through our closet last night weeding out stuff to donate, I found three pairs of respectable jeans that I totally forgot I had. Does that mean I lose my excuse to replace the ones I threw out?