Mourning Pepsi Free.

(Holidailies #9)
I’ve noticed a lot of tight, acid-washed jeans (or acid-washed jeggings?) in the last few days; so many that I fear they are a THING again rather than just an ironic commentary on something hipsters think is important.

Abominable. Disgraceful. Unforgiveable. Jeans deserve better than this. HUMANITY deserves better than this.

However, it did remind me of that I had this photographic evidence of my own dalliance with The Evil, Tainted Denim, which makes me laugh every time I see it.

1980s

My tiny cousin Julia is now an Oxbridge-educated professor. Pre-teen me was far less impressed with her even more pre-teen self back then. Smug ‘I’m, like, SOO over life’ face had been nearly perfected. I also look a lot like my older brother here. Those things might be related. Nice Jesus-y quote on the wall of Grandma and Grandpa’s den, too.

I remember these jeans really well because my mother thought they were criminally expensive (but I neeeeeeeeded Levi’s) and catastrophically ugly. Right on both counts, Mum.

Why I paired them with a polo under a sweatshirt, I may never know. But this was probably taken in 1989, and, really, we were all guilty of looking ridiculous back then. I was probably wearing them with ratty Reebok high tops when I was outside.

This marks one of many brief attempts at being cool. This one was particularly brief as this was mid-growth spurt (check out the crazy long legs already). Within a year, I was not only nearly full adult height (I think I got to 5’8 – for reference, my cousin in the photo has topped out at 4’11). Within about three weeks of buying these jeans, my hips were too big for them. Hell, I could barely squat in them IN THE STORE. (‘No, Mom, they’re totally fine, I swear!’)

(These were 27″ inch waisted jeans. Why I still remember that, I have no idea, but it makes me laugh when I go into stores and see how feckin’ small that is. I thought I was enormous back then. Nope, just tall and pubescent.)

It really is a shame how image and label-conscious 12-year-olds can because it’s a really stupid time to buy them anything that isn’t disposible. We should just issue them with old-fashioned potato sacks and be done with it.

 

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