My local Costco has these Buffalo David Bitton skinny jeans in stock for about $26, and I thought they looked pretty sweet. Also, I’ve shed a few (like 50-ish) lbs over the last year, and I kinda needed some new jeans. So I was like sah-weet, and snagged me a black pair in a size 12 back in October.
I considered the size 12 a “win,” because I’d been hovering between size 14/16 for a bit. So I was like aaawwww *happy dance*. Buuuut it quickly became apparent that these (extremely comfortable) jeans were a titch too big for me, and I’d underestimated my weight loss. It was getting to the point where my “skinny” jeans were literally falling off me, and I could shimmy out of them without undoing the zip.
Granted, I’d lost a few more pounds after buying them, and they have some give/ stretch to them because they’re, like, 10% polyester … but it didn’t help that I started out by just plain underestimating how my weight loss impacted my clothing size.
Sizing is hard, and it’s really hard to eyeball.
Now, I assumed the jeans were out of stock after a few months, but that was an assumption based on the following facts:
- I hate clothing shopping
- I actually kind of tend to avoid the clothing section at my local Costco because there’s often a strong perfumey-fragrance hanging about the area? I’m not sure if it’s due to an employee or the result of the type of shoppers attracted to the area, but it’s like a heavy cloud of floral/ patchouli/ gaggery sort of thing, and it makes my eyes water and my skin break out, so I tend to just sort of rush past holding my breath and not browse the area.
- Also, I hate clothing shopping.
But! Last week, the air surrounding the area was all fragrance-free and clean, so I figured I’d take a peek and see if the pants were still in stock. And lo and behold, they were! Yay! So I located a size 10 and did the whole no-dressing-room measure trick, which is good to see if something’ll fit (not as useful for seeing how something will fit). For pants/ skirts/ shorts, hold them up to your waist, but from small-of-back to belly-button, not hipbone-to-hipbone. If they don’t reach, it won’t fit.
Anyway, fit seemed to work, so I bought them. Took ’em home, tried ’em on–perfect! Lounged about all happy for a day in my beautiful dark blue comfy-as-hell, brand-new skinny jeans. Next day, went out to get a flu shot and visit my husband at work, and I discovered something horrifying.
My new jeans do not have front pockets.
My old ones do. Same brand, same materials, same everything but size/color–they have front pockets. True, they’re tiny little jokes of front pockets, useful only for a handful of change or a lighter, but still. Pockets! In my pants! Pockets in which I can tuck my thumbs! Pockets for folded receipts, change, lighters, and the various other detritus I collect throughout my day!
My new pants have a neatly stitched line of lies, pretending to be a pocket. LIES.
It’s not even a stitched-over fake pocket, like you’ll sometimes find in suits! There is no pocket! If I were to take a stitch ripper to the seam, I would merely open a hole in my jeans! It’s just for show! A cruel seam of trickery!
I HAVE NO FRONT POCKET IN MY JEANS!
What is this vicious cruelty? Why, by going down a size, did I surrender my pockets? I don’t want pocketless jeans! That’s insanity! Who wants pocketless jeans? My gods! I might as well be wearing yoga pants, or leggings! If I wanted to wear fucking yoga pants, I would get yoga pants! I wanted jeans! With pockets!
I’m utterly appalled, just utterly. Appalled. I googled Buffalo David Bitton skinny jeans and damn. Apparently these things were also a steal, because the website is listing their skinny jeans as between $79 and $108 dollars, which is fucking insane for jeans that are apparently hit and miss for front pockets under size 10! I mean, at least four of the models on their skinny jeans page are posing with a hand tucked into the front pocket–but is that because they’re wearing over a size 10? Or is it because its a brand which actually comes with pockets in all sizes? I do not know. I am so baffled.
Why no pockets?! Why? Why? Who would design pants–jeans–without pockets? What kind of outrageous insanity is this?
Well, I mean … actually, I do have some related reading for anyone actually interested in diving down the rabbit hole of that question. But it’s kind of a fucked up/ annoying explanation:
- The Politics of Pockets, by Chelsea G. Summers (Racked, Sept. 2016)
- The Weird, Complicated, Sexist History of Pockets, by Rachel Lubitz (Mic.com, Feb. 2016)
- The Gender Politics of Pockets, by Tanya Basu (The Atlantic, Sept. 2014)
Which, all super fascinating, sure … but doesn’t resolve the lack of pockets in my pants. *grumble grumble grumble*
The worst part is, I’m keeping the damn things.