Loosening Up

My Diesel jeans loosened up after a wash! They are loose where I need them to be and well fitted at places that flatter me.

We have come a long way from the time we started together. On Day one, my jeans were restrictive; they deterred me from bending, folding, and moving lithely because it didn’t know my contours neither was I familiar with the rigidity of the fibers. They said “you must buy one that holds you tight and close within it” and I subscribed for it. But then it became clammy, tight and wouldn’t let me breathe. After gasping, fraught as I was, I decided to let it go with utmost disappointment and abhorrence.

And then some Spinning and Tumbling in the tub changed everything for us. It came back in its full glory and hugged me like I had never dreamt. The comfort was such that I could now Sleep in them.

I play, cook, travel, draw, eat, read, write, think, dance, run, lounge, party, shop, drop and a do lot more in them. It earned me a compliment to envy for- “It’s the woman in it who makes the jeans!”

My jeans are distressed and ripped. That’s how I like them. I never liked the slick, impeccable, monochrome, blue finish. I like it acid washed and I like it stone washed. It must have gone through some treatment before I endorse it. The distressed ones make me look different. The ripped ones give me character. The ones that are both distressed and ripped get most of my love. That’s how I like it!

I approve of them till I get jaded and then I shop for a new pair. The start is always so exciting, the tension to fit, the loosening up followed by the flawless fitting, the charm of newness, the commendations, the standing out, the perfect match with everything else, the need to sport. But here’s always more to vie for on the shop floor may be because I get them on a discount.

All of them get stacked up in my Closet. Some come out once in a while when I wish to look like days gone by, some stay there untouched for days and weeks and months and some are just buried under the heap never to be fished out. But I never get rid of them. All of them are always there….

It’s astounding how my jeans are my life's raconteur...they are a metaphor! :)