self analysis through fashion.

i've always had a penchant for making things difficult for myself. its like my brain completely disregards whatever the easy option is, and launches full throttle into the other one. i'll be going about things, anything - basic functions, routes, habits, relationships - and then try a new variation on it or see someone doing it in a different manner and suddenly have this smack-my-forehead-duh!-moment where i realize that i could have been saving myself hours/gray hairs. like when i learned how to more effectively dispose of soup.

so i now realize that this habit of mine transcends into my closet. i am a huge fan of big bottomed pants. as soon as those horrible tapered pants of my 80s childhood were behind me, my jeans swiftly evolved from bootcut to flares to the ones with 26-inch bases that drag about the floor like a train behind me. what i never before thought about though, was how much extra work these sort of pants really are.

my current faves - i have two pairs, as the first was ripped when my heel got tangled up in them and i tripped on 27th street and face-planted onto the sidewalk on my way to a rangers game, where i showed up bloody and crying, while missy and father laughed at me. one would think that had been my pants epiphany moment - are lovingly referred to as my "streetsweepers" as they are singlehandedly responsible for keeping the concrete of two cities (and the floors of numerous apartments and homes) free of debris. i know the bottoms of them are filthy, and they are almost impossible to wear in the rain, but i never really minded all that much.

until today. at some point between my car and the prescription counter of CVS the bottom of my pants became entangled in this giant blue piece of gum. a serious wad - i'd say it was at least 4 sticks of trident or 2 pieces of bubble yum. having been caught in the ripped off hem of my jeans, the wad apparently swished back and forth while i was walking, getting stuck against other parts of the hem as well as my sneaker and when i finally realized i was sticking to CVS' industrial grade carpet, there was quite a sticky mess going on. upon purchasing a scissor and spending a good few minutes in the parking lot cutting the gummy part of the jeans off, i realized that wearing clothing should not take this much effort. if it did, there'd be a lot more nudists.

this of course does not at all mean that i've learned my lesson for good -- my beloved streetsweepers, though slightly shorter on the left leg, will not be retired anytime soon - but i have found a new appreciation for the skinny jeans i was forced to buy. so at least for one day i will take the easy road - tomorrow i'm tucking a pair of them into boots and will boldly stomp down the sidewalk, discarded wads of gum be damned.