JEANS

Looking back on pictures of when  J and I first met...we were both a little skinnier.  After we fell in love and passed the jittery, twitterpated stage of new romance where you just can't eat, we settled into a more comfortable routine (i.e. one that included eating).

My weight has been such a roller coaster!

Twitterpated= lost weight.
Comfy in love= gained weight.
Tried to get healthy= bought an elliptical, lost weight.
Got pregnant= lost my appetite and puked my guts out, lost more weight.
**Insert maternity clothes here.**
Had a baby= lost more weight.  Never gained weight during pregnancy, and then lost 20 pounds by delivering.
Recovered from pregnancy= started eating again.  Gained weight.

I'm sitting about five pounds below where I was when I got pregnant.

SO WHY IN THE HELL DO NONE OF MY JEANS FIT?

If I were mannequin-shaped, these jeans would fit perfectly!

Jeans, we have a very serious love/hate relationship.  I love that you are casual, can be worn with just about anything, and in theory, are comfortable.  But I loathe how you refuse to fit my body.  Gain weight, lose weight, it doesn't seem to matter.  Somehow, you are just off.  The waist, the hips, the thighs...there is always some area that just isn't right.  (And don't even get me started on the length.  I'm quite sure I've never been able to buy a pair of jeans that didn't need to be hemmed.)

This makes me unhappy.

We seem to be in a never-ending cycle of home repair (this summer alone, we've had an HVAC guy, a plumber, and now a roofer hit us up) , so spending $100 on some new denim is just low on the priority list.  But oh, how I crave the perfect pair of jeans.

Does it exist?  Is there really a pair of jeans out there that will just fit me comfortably?

I believe them to be mythical.  But I want them to be mine.  Please advise.

**EDIT- after this post was originally written, the one pair of jeans that I had that semi-fit (as in, were the least uncomfortable of all my choices) were destroyed.  The friction from my thighs rubbing together finally did its damage, and a gaping hole now exists where denim once covered my leg.  DAMMIT.  To those of you women whose thighs don't touch?  I hate you.

And now I really need some new jeans.  Sigh.