Newsflash: Men Too Get Distraught While Trying on Jeans August 27, 2012

So there we were in the men’s department at Nordstrom, perusing jeans. I for one was giddy with excitement; not only had I convinced my husband Dan to actually shop for jeans, but he was open to spending the extra money on something a bit more hip.  And I could tell he was serious because he even enlisted the help of a salesperson, a skinny and fashionable twenty-something named Eugene.

We told Eugene we were looking for something in a dark wash, a relaxed fit, without any embellishments.

“Something you can wear to work and then go out to dinner in,” Eugene explained as we nodded in agreement.

And then he happily went to work gathering about a half dozen pairs of jeans, none whose name started with an L and ended with an S.

Eugene makes us at home in an extra huge dressing room where Dan dons his first pair of outrageously expensive jeans.

Dan: Whoa. How am I supposed to get these over my thighs? Uh…yeah, these are way too tight in the thighs. But look, the waist is okay; there’s this big gap here.

Me (smirking): Welcome to my world, buddy. Welcome to my world.

Second pair: Same thing.

Third pair: Same thing, plus too girly.

Fourth pair:

Me: Now those are promising!

Dan: Uh, I don’t think so. (Turns around to reveal said jeans riding high up his ass.)

Me: Oh. Okay, I guess not. If those jeans had a name they would be called “The Eddie Haskell”. Or maybe “Anyone Who Encounters George Clooney”. Or maybe “Obama at Celebrity Fundraiser”. Or maybe –

Dan: Okay, enough! I get it!

The fifth and sixth pairs all had the same thigh issue, even though the waist fit fine or was too big.  I was intrigued.

“Holy crap,” I thought to myself. “It’s like watching myself try on designer jeans. I usually end up leaving the dressing room in a huff, wondering if the fit model was a twelve-year-old girl.”

By the time he was done, Dan was starting to sink into the shopping depression that we ladies are way too familiar with.

“Who are these men who actually fit into these jeans?” he wondered.

“Well honey,” I started. “Eugene, for one. Did you see his waist? It’s probably a 24 at most. His belt was working so hard to keep his pants up I could almost see sweat coming out of it. Plus I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass.”

“These are all made for super skinny people,” he sighed.  “I’d have to lose another twenty pounds. Let’s go look at shoes.”

Wait a minute. Did I hear him right? Let’s go look at shoes? That is right out of the female playbook. We invented “Let’s go look at shoes.” Because every female knows that even if you are feeling bad about your body but you still want to buy something, you go for shoes.

We stroll over to the shoes, but not even the lovely selection of Gucci loafers was able to shake him out of his funk. Every now and then I’d hear him mumble something about “skinny people” and “no jeans for normal guys.”

Again, I knew how he felt. Here we had worked our butts off all summer, eating better and working out. We were definitely in good shape, yet those stupid jeans made us feel like freaks. Who knew that men’s designer jeans were also cruelly designed to only fit stick figures a select demographic? And who knew that men got so depressed about it?

It’s kind of refreshing. But in the meantime it looks like we are headed back to Kohl’s. Sigh.


Five Things that Will Never Enter my Closet August 21, 2011

Just Say No to Crocs

When it comes to clothing, I’m a big fan of the classics. Give me something that is timeless, otherwise I end up burning seventh-grade pictures of myself wearing a neon-colored sweatshirt and tight-rolled pleated jeans. I can safely say that the following items will never enter my closet, thereby saving me the unenviable task of having to explain the “appeal” of such trends to my future grandchildren.

1) Uggs – I never understood why these ginormous puffy boots were (are?) so popular. I also never understood why so many celebrities would wear them in mid summer with their denim mini skirts. It’s the shoe equivalent of wearing an unventilated Cookie Monster costume at an amusement park.

2) Crocs – One of the most hideous shoes ever invented. The Mary Jane version worn by toddlers is kind of cute, but that is the only exception.

3) Colored jeans – I am waiting for this whole bright jean trend to go quietly into the night; if I wanted that much attention drawn to my least favorite body part, I’d just attach blinking lights to my inner thighs. I’ll  just stick to the most universally flattering jean.  That would be the dark wash boot cut that I wear with heels. Always.

4) Capri pants – At one point I did actually own a few pairs of capri pants. Then I realized that they are not doing my long torso/short leg combination body any favors. Unless I am morphed into Audrey Hepburn and handed a pair of Chanel ballet flats, I am just saying no to capri pants.

5) Glaringly fake designer purses – You aren’t fooling anyone with these. I’d rather just spend the twenty five bucks on a great purse from Target, and honestly those are the purses I’ve gotten the most compliments on. Not to say I wouldn’t love a Prada bag (the pretty black shiny one that costs about $1700 at Nordstrom. Thanks Santa!) But in the meantime those Merona for Target bags are functional and sleek.


What Every Woman Should Know: How to Hide the Shopping Bags November 12, 2010

Filed under: Humor,Money Matters — aniederkorn @ 8:48 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

An observant husband can be a double-edged sword.  On one end you’ve got men like my dad, affectionately known as Captain Oblivious.  My mom could wear a brand new outfit every day for a month and that man still would not notice.  In other words, my mom can get away with a lot.  Dad isn’t going to be noticing those new shoes any time soon, nor does he really know what things cost these days, unless it’s related to deer hunting or Ham Radio equipment.  Now this can be nice, but surely my mom would appreciate some compliments on her stellar outfits every once in a while. 

My own husband is on the opposite end of the spectrum.  Since he has started listening to Dave Ramsey, it’s all about the budget.  So if any article of clothing I wear hints of newness, he immediately wants to know said garment’s history and vital statistics.  Ironically, as I am writing this, he does indeed ask me if my skirt is new (no), compliments me, then eyes me suspiciously and asks my stepdaughter if she has seen the skirt before.  It is several minutes before he lets the subject rest and goes to watch Thursday night football.

Unfortunately, there is not often a happy medium.  While I would hate for any fabulous new fashion purchase to be ignored by my spouse, I don’t want to have to defend every single purchase.  Unlike my dad, my husband does actually have an idea how much Tod’s shoes cost. 

As a result, we women often resort to the guilt-laden but highly skilled practice known as hiding the goods.  You know what I mean, ladies.  You go to the mall and overdo it; hence you have to conceal the evidence.  Sometimes this means stashing the bags in the back of your closet and staggering each item over a few months.  But as most seasoned criminals or power-shoppers-with-observant-husbands can tell you, the first 24 hours of the crime/shopping spree are often most crucial to the investigation.  This is no time to get sloppy. 

Shopping bag concealment is no joke, folks.  It involves fast thinking, stealth-like movement and a poker face that could convince any husband that yes, he already knew about the $500 Target credit card charge and he was fine with it.

Case in point, my friend J (all names have been hidden to protect the innocent shopper). After a particularly unexpected (i.e. successful) shopping excursion, J notices that her husband has beaten her home.  This is an easy one: leave the purchases in the trunk.  Of course this leads to panic later, as clueless husband conveniently decides to take her car to the store.  She makes a mad dash outside to grab the bags while he is distracted, throwing them into the front hall closet as he moves for the door.  It is not until 2:00 a.m. that she wakes up in a cold sweat, remembering that the bags are still downstairs.  She gets up and grabs them, only to see her husband has gotten up for his nightly bathroom visit.  In the nick of time, J slides into her son’s bedroom and chucks the bags into his closet before running into her husband in the hallway.

Lurking Husband:  What are you doing in L’s[1] room?

J:  Oh I was just checking on him because he had a fever earlier.

So why do we do it?  We know that eventually the jig will be up and the credit card statement will come in the mail.  I can tell you why:  because when it comes to the emotional process of shopping, it is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.  And that is why I am logging onto in a few minutes for the special weekend sale event.  Because make-up is a lot easier to hide than a new dress.

[1] Innocent childrens’ names were spared as well.