The Sisterhood of the "Designer Jeans that Fit"

I am still on my quest, and I really thought I was getting somewhere. I cleaned out closets, drawers, garage and more. I am living the experience that “less is more”. I am realizing that I am not the slave of my stuff. I am exfoliating the unwanted things right out of my life. My new mantra is: my stuff does not define me. Pillows, vases and clothes do not make the woman. I strive for freedom from clutter and chaos.

So then why am I so darned tickled to find a pair of extremely expensive designer jeans for a steal at a thrift store? (Don’t ask why I was there, since I did announce I am giving up thrift store shopping….).

I really didn’t believe it. I mean, they are just jeans, right? Who cares if “all” the stars are wearing them, that they are “all” the rage, and that the price tag on a pair of new ones is upwards of a car payment?

I mean I wasn’t looking for them. They found me, I swear. I was innocently walking down the aisle when I heard a soft whisper: “You need me.” What? “I want to own you. I will make you feel amazing.” Of course, I looked around hoping to find George Clooney, Hugh Jackman or Eric Bana (google him, trust me), saying those compelling words. But no, it was a pair of equally gorgeous jeans…in my size.

Now, as far as “sizes” go, we all know that each designer is different, and the “true” designers seem to fit smaller than most. So I was a little wary about buying these jeans, since the thrift store didn’t have dressing rooms. But hey, they were calling for me! They wanted to own me! These jeans would change my life, no doubt about it. And they were less than two morning lattés! I mean I would still be the same down to earth, stuff doesn’t matter Karen. But a newer better version because I had these jeans. I tried to walk past once, but they beckoned me back. They were serious. They wanted to go home with me. Ah, they were just jeans, not Hugh. But I did it. I bought them and brought them home.

I am wearing them right now. I may never take them off. Because these very expensive designer jeans that fit smaller and would normally cost the same as a mortgage fit me! And I love them as much as they love me. I’m still on the less is more mode. I mean I may just give away something else and keep the jeans. Like my car.

I never really got it. I didn’t understand the draw of very expensive jeans. Until now. It’s not a pair of jeans – it’s a feeling. It’s an “aha” moment. It’s a new book. The Sisterhood of the Designer Pants that Fit. That’s my next novel. Even though I didn’t get a date with George or Eric (and I really believe that my husband would have totally been cool with it), I got the jeans. And as soon as he sees me in them, I think my husband will be cool with the fact that I added to my wardrobe and didn’t give away something. And tomorrow, no more stuff. I promise.