All the not eating, and walking, and not eating, and calf work-outs on the playground equipment, and not eating, and lunges down the trail, and not eating, has finally, finally, FINALLY!!!!! given me a genuine reason to smile.

My skinny jeans slipped right on this morning.

The jeans that have sat on the closet shelf for the last 6 years waiting for me. Waiting in all their skinny jean glory for me to be ready to wear them again. They’ve tagged along from apartment, to apartment, to best friend’s condo, to current co-worker’s townhome – all the while patiently sure that I would one-day slip them all the way up again.

They always had faith in me, even when I lost faith in myself.

They knew.

When I think about it all, I really do tear up.

There’s just something about a pair of jeans that can do that to a girl I guess.

jeans 1

It’s kind of hard to take a full-body picture of yourself with a cell phone, but I promise these are my legs. You can tell, because I’m the only person alive who considers 2002-jeans with fake-wear marks across the thighs cool anymore. (sorry about the messy bed).

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