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Monday, April 19, 2010

The Sad Truth About Jeggings

I’ve discovered God’s greatest gift to man.

Jeggings.

That’s right. I’m talking about jeans and leggings fused into one brilliant pant. See, with the flexibility of a legging and the look of a jean, you can park yourself at your desk for eight hours straight without feeling sick from the pressure of a strained, metal button boring a hole into your stomach, without running the risk of catching a hulking zipper on your shirt or underwear. The best part? You don’t have to compromise style in order to stuff yourself with a hearty meal. They’re so stretchy! (I promise I’m not two-hundred pounds. Really.) It’s possible never to put your jeggings in the dryer—and then do flips and cartwheels around the office—yet look as though you’ve stepped right out of Vogue's glossy pages. These things are so spandex-y (but cute like jeans!), you could run a marathon in them. Seriously.

Anyway, when I learn that Nordstrom carries jeggings, I don’t waste any time. I head to the mall immediately. Too embarrassed to ask the saleswoman at Brass Plum for “jeggings” (because I’m not sure whether I’ve coined the term myself or if this is in fact an industry-wide standard), I inquire about the “pants that look like jeans but aren’t.” (Turns out I didn’t coin the term.)

She leads me to the rack of holiness.

Five hours later, I’m out with a large group of girlfriends when I notice that my zipper has a missing tooth. (Is that what they call those? Teeth?) (Whatever. The zipper doesn’t zip.) So the rest of the night goes like this: (a) I alert my friends each time I have to take a whiz; (b) they proceed to play Rock, Paper Siscors; (c) the loser accompanies me to the ladies’ room, unenthusiastic; (d) she waits while I do my business and then joins me in the stall, where she gets down on both knees, hands me her drink, and tries with two hands to realign my zipper. (Why can’t I do this myself, you’re wondering? Because I have a broken wrist and one arm is in a glow-in-the-dark cast.)

After a few drinks, this process is too much work for everyone, so I graciously volunteer to continue the evening with my fly open.

I wear this pair of jeggings, unzipped, for another three weeks, happy and care-free, although special occasions warrant securing the opening with a safety pin.

(Yes, I realize skin-tight pants with inoperable flies can be unattractive—not to mention inappropriate, especially at work—but my compulsion to wear jeggings is not to be reasoned with. If I wake up one morning and decide to wear jeggings, then zipper be damned, I’m wearing jeggings.)

Finally, I exchange the pants for another pair. The zipper breaks that afternoon. I’m currently searching for a more reliable jegging. Anyone have ideas?