2, 4, 6, 8…whatever

July 14, 2008

bolstered by confidence of my recent return to my “skinny jeans” i made a foray into the gap…just to browse.

“okay,” i think, “i’ll just try one one pair.  maybe two.  but i’m not going to buy anything.  i just want to see how they look.”  i pick up a couple pair of jeans. i’ve bounced between 6 and 8 at the gap for years, with an occasional 10 thrown in there, but i’m wearing a size 6 now and i just wanted to give myself a silent high-five if it turned out that it’s not just a fluke. 

in the dressing room the jeans begin to purr.  i slip them on and they glide up effortlessly, skimming over my thighs and buttoning without even sucking in.  the fuck?  these jeans are huge.  “oh, no, no, precious.  you’re not a six,” they coo, “try a four.  go on…i’ll wait.”  

i grab a four.  clearly the jeans have to be mismarked.  interesting.  they too have a bit of breathing room.  the salesperson reminds me that they will stretch quite significantly. “can i get you a two?” she asks.

a two?! me? a size two?  never.  but maybe…  i begin to wonder, “i suppose i could buy a pair of jeans.  they do look good. what’s an extra $59.50?” and then i realized that i had fallen victim to their little scheme.  the jeans are no smaller than they were four years ago when i last purchased a pair there.  they just want me to think that they are and then bask in the glory of my miraculous and instantaneous down-sizing and celebrate by buying an entirely new wardrobe.  i gave the jeans to the fitting-room attendant and walked out of the store empty handed.  i mean, it’s not like anyone is going to know what the tag inside the jeans says, right?


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