But wait. You can't get them over your thigh. You put your foot through other leg in the hope something has just gone a little bit wrong and you only need the nifty little wiggle and your perfect jeans will fit. You wiggle. You shake. You dance fingers in the belt hooks for the next five minutes until you stare at your horrible fat ugly wobbly self in the downlit mirror, a shadow cast on all your imperfections, wishing you could chops off your flub just to get these jeans to fit.
But deep down in your heart you know these jeans are never going to fit. No matter what you do, you can't buy these jeans in your size because your size isn't your size in this shop. You're another size. A bigger size. You don't understand. I had on a size 12 pair of jeans and they fit just fine. I've already bought a dress today in a size 12. So why don't these jeans fit?! You ask yourself.
You give up and with deep regret hand them back to the assistant. And you leave.
You go into the next shop.
Jeans. Size 12. Skinny. Light blue with ripped detail. You pick them up and head straight for the changing room. You hope and pray that these will be the perfect jeans. Old jeans off. New jeans on. You pull your left leg through. Then the right. They slide on with ease. Up over your thighs and smoothly over your bum. You do up the buckle and stare at yourself in the mirror.
They sag at the knees. Your crotch hangs half way down your thighs. You have a gape at the back big enough to fit another person. You stare at yourself. Why don't they fit? They're the same size as the jeans before. I don't understand.
You take off the baggy jeans. Put old jeans on. Leave the shop. And go home.
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