You might think this is going to be a rant about the perils of shopping for jeans. But you would be wrong. You might think this is going to be a stereotypical girly diatribe about how jeans never fit me. But you would be wrong. You might think this is going to be an intellectual debate of acid wash versus distressed. But you would be wrong.

    What this is, is an exploration of the evils of denim when combined with stitches. Surgical stitches. On your back. Owie.

    I had surgery on Tuesday, hence the lack of blog entries lately. As some of you might know, the docs found some tumors in my lower back, just below my waist, right next to the spine. We were all a teensy bit worried they were impacting my spine and there was an itsy-bitsy risk that they might become cancerous. So out they came, and ow I hurt.

    Although I wasn’t in as much pain as I was expecting, it’s certainly lasting longer than I thought it would. You’d think after a week of percocet and PJ’s a girl would be okay.
For the first time in a week I ventured into public and, despite my protests, I had to don normal attire. I had a business luncheon to get to today, and last I checked, Maggiano’s really doesn’t appreciate their patrons showing up in adult-sized footy-pajamas (oh yeah, height of comfort, even if it’s lacking in maturity.) Believe me when I say, regular clothes are overrated. Jeans on my backside? Never again.

    Okay, maybe some time, but not for at least another day or two. Why? Because, as I said above, jeans are evil. Oh, they fit fine, I didn’t have too much trouble shopping for them, and they’re neither acid washed or distressed. But the waistband? Hits right where the scars are. And the bruises. The big, nasty, purple, red, and yellow bruises. Right there. Sitting? Not alltogether pleasant. Bending over? Not in your life. If you thought your jeans were uncomfortable, baby, you ain’t felt nothin’ like this.

    Thus, even though I do normally love my Calvin Kleins, all pants of the denim persuasion shall be classified as “Evil” until further notice. Not that I’m encouraging everyone to go around pantsless (oh boy, the google queries I’ll get from that statement), but as for this fashionista, I shall be discarding my jeans in favor of those good ole’ mainstays: black satin drawstring pajama pants. And all of you folks out there with backside maladies, take a page from my book and drop your drawers. (Just don’t forget to replace them with pajamas, there are laws against that sort of thing otherwise.)