(Bug Jeff it was...)

So, yesterday, the shirt I brought to work, to change in to before heading to the sports bar, wasn't a sporty shirt at all. I stopped by the mall to buy something Badgery (even though they didn't play yesterday...like I'm going to be an Ohio State sweatshirt! Seriously!). I walk in and there is a very large display of carpenter jeans at the entrance.

Now, I love carpenter jeans, LOVE THEM. I'm not sure if it's the cut, or the discovery of extra pockets every time that I look, but I've mourned these long years at their disappearance from the women's section. You know, some of us just can't pull off skinny jeans. Or want to. I miss a roomy jean under which you can conceal inflatable rafts, survival kits, and boxes upon boxes of girl scout cookies. I am sure this is the level of both leisure and security Levi Strauss had in mind all those years ago.

So I'm like drooling all over the place and my tongue is wagging at the floor like some bizarre real-life Warner Bros character because not only is this center display (where they ALWAYS display women's clothing!) chock-full of carpenter jeans, THEY APPEAR TO BE PETITES! Shorter lengths! YES! So I grab my size and hold them up, feeling distinctly fat. I go to the next size and the next, becoming very uncomfortable with my body and, obviously, freaking out that I must have had more soft pretzels at last weekend's Big Ten Tournament than I remember. Finally, I read.

"Carpenter Jeans for kids!" stamped across the label over and over again...I was bummed...

(...but not as much as I would have been if my distored inner eye hadn't seen me take on the dimensions of Pavarotti.)