When I first encountered Gay Chris, I owned one pair of jeans that didn’t make me feel like a bloated toad. They bought time to reclaim jeans in my closet purchased when I was a svelter version of myself. I wore this singular pair of jeans practically every day for months. Then, the unthinkable happened. I leaned over and busted the arse clear out of the only jeans that fit. Poor things were thread bare from constant wear.
These are the circumstances which led me straight into the arms of Gay Chris at the Galleria Mall. That’s what he told me his name was. I couldn’t take my eyes off him when I walked into the True Religion store. He was resplendent in his True Religion jeans. I announced my desire to find jeans that “make my ass look delicious”. Bursting with customer service enthusiasm, Chris supplied me with dozens of potential denim love connections to try on. He waited on me like I was his only customer. For the record, I was the only customer there, but that’s hardly the point.
True religion jeans: worth the hype?
A decision this important required a committee, so he roped in another clerk to view my ass. We settled upon the Becky jean. The only snag was that one pair was a little big and the smaller size a little snug. Chris swore the smaller size was the only pair that met my “delicious” criteria. He promised they would “totally stretch out. Trust me.”
Perhaps I deserve what I get for shopping at a store marketed to affluent 17 year olds and gay men. How can I defend myself? As it turns out, I am drawn to establishments teens and gay folks frequent. They are, after all, my people.
Dear Gay Chris: True Religion Jeans Associate
Your sales pitch to sell me True Religion Jeans worked. You were right that my Becky True Religion jeans would eventually stretch enough to accommodate my sexy mommy pooch. I broke in my new jeans after only four nine-hour days of constant wear. While taking shallow breaths was uncomfortable the first two days, I developed a rhythm slouching over my computer as the week wore on.
First, I take back the hateful thoughts I recycled in my head about you violating the sacred trust between us. Obviously, I take the gay man/straight woman privilege we formed in the mall dressing room seriously. I hold our bond as sacred, like the attorney/client privilege. However, I’m not sure these True Religion jeans were intended for women who’ve housed people in their bodies. Chin up! I don’t mean recently. It’s been a while since I birthed people, twins no less! Understandably, my slender, albeit saggy, physique may have fooled you.
my ass bit off more than it could chew
Second, the True Religion jeans are so low on my hips I’m surprised you didn’t see my fabulous c-section scar. However, I do take issue with your assertion I will be able to squat wearing them. I can’t wrest the courage to test the theory for fear of plumber’s crack exposure. Also, I had to limit my daily fluid intake because the jeans strangle my bladder. My lady parts are nearly numb from lack of oxygen. I fear some of my organs may have been smashed into different areas of my pelvis. I’m now afraid to take the True Religion jeans off, like when it’s ill-advised to pull the knife out, rather than leave it in, when you get stabbed.
Thirdly, women have a complicated relationship with their jeans. Gay Chris, I know you understand. Your motivation was pure. I understand your winning gay charms rescued me from a fate worse than death by cajoling me into the smaller size True Religion jeans. If you hadn’t intervened… If you hadn’t been there to save me from myself… I had three pairs of perfectly great jeans in my closet that already made me feel like I was wearing sausage casing over my thighs. Damn you, Gay Chris! Now I have yet another pair of jeans to grow down to.