The story of my favorite jeans... sit back and I will tell you a tale...

I bought them in 2001 at Variazoni, this weird mall-type boutique that sometimes has supercute stuff and sometimes has stuff that looks like it fell off a truck. I was probably on one of my weight declines because when I tried them on, they fit perfectly.

I knew they were my dream jeans. The perfect shade of blue, below the belly-button in front, a little higher in the back (no thong showing for me!), juuuuust the right amount of stretch to get through puffy days and the perfect length. I didn't have to shorten them. They were a 32 that made me look like I was wearing a 29. The downside? They weren't cheap. But when I looked at my booty in them, I slapped down my weary credit card. Red Engine Jeans? $135. A hot ass? Priceless.

These jeans have gone through a lot of wear and tear over the years. During my oblivious weight gain, I wore huge holes in the inner thighs. Classy. I got them repaired. I wore them when my boyfriend and I went to Northern Cali for a wedding. I thought I was going to get liver gangrene because they were cutting so deeply into my midsection.

I felt bad about myself. These jeans were my Traveling Pants (a movie I have not seen). They were sexily slouchy in my 150's, perfectly fitting in my 160's, skin tight and sexy in my 170's... you get my meaning. When I hit 193, the jeans seemed to whimper. You are testing the magic, they seemed to say, in the silent way that denim communicates. Lose some weight or give me to a more worthy owner.

So I'm wearing them today. And they are still tight. Tight tight. But less tight. No longer the kind of tight that leads to organ failure. But still suck in when I button and zip tight.

I've spent countless $$ on designer jeans that I haven't liked half as much: Sevens (the-popular- girl-who-used-to-snub-you-but-now-wants-to-be-your-friend-because-you've-lost-weight-and-have-a-credit-card of jeans), James, Joe's, Blue Cult (Fine, I bought them at Filene's) and Diesels. And they've all been all right. I mean, they're all way too long, need to be hemmed, and show butt crack when I bend over. And 80% of them are STILL too tight for me to even dare trying them on.

I missed you, Red Engine Jeans. I can't wait to get to my 10% goal so I can look smokin' in them again.

Anyhoo.

Speaking of fat asses, I've got a wedding tonight and I'm going to have to load up on Tofu Shirataki noodle something beforehand if I'm going to make it through the night.

The food is probably going to be delish, so I'm going to have 2 bites of everything and no cake. Wedding cake is never as good as it looks. And my boyfriend isn't going to know anyone so we'll only be there for a few hours...

Blah, blah, blah. I REALLY need to do laundry. Like during finals week in college when you're wearing that same hooded sweatshirt with the BBQ sauce stain on it for two weeks, need to do laundry. Our apartment smells like a hamper.

Apropos of nothing, I met up with my pal for a drink last night and had a vodka and soda. Can it really be 2.5 points? I measured for 1.5 oz vodka...