I know we’re boycotting Target, but tonight, I had to go (yeah, sure, had to) because I couldn’t figure out where else to purchase the Fur Fighter that I needed that instant because the white part of my comforter is now gray with Ramona fur and even though it’s been furry for a while, it was really getting to me. I walked in there on a mission, moving with purpose, until I got to the juniors’ section. I didn’t even make it to the slightly more respectable ladies’ department. I mean, I’m almost 28 years old–I can make the jump from Mossimo to Merona. But I completely slowed down and meandered through the racks of the ridiculous, cheap, totally appealing apparel, and then. Then, right in front of me were the best jeans ever.

I bought my first pair of Best Jeans Ever in February after I moved under not-so-favorable circumstances and all I had to cover my bottom half were a pair of sweat pants, a pair of baggy jeans, and scrubs that I borrowed while I was at work. I did try to wear a pair of corduroys that were second-hand and two sizes too big, but that was hardly an improvement in the pants situation. So because I was on my way to a baby shower and people have to be sort of properly-attired at those things, or at least wear pants that are not falling off one’s ass at those things, I stopped by Target on the way, was amazed to find cheap jeans that looked good and didn’t feel like jeans (I actually really hate jeans if they’re not full of Spandex and other soft things that don’t constrict). I bought the jeans and changed in broad daylight in my friend’s car. And I have loved them ever since, and not just because they were my first real pants in two weeks or so.

I planned on buying more pair in more colors because when you hit on something good, you get it in every possible permutation, am I right? But that was the last week that any Target anywhere was carrying vaguely winterish clothing, and after that, the jeans were gone and I had but one pair. I even tried Target online and eBay and all that.

I made do with my one pair, but, these jeans, they’re not really something I can be completely proud of because, well, they are actually branded as jeggings. That is an awful word. And the pair I got is kind of acid washed, which is an awful style, I understand. And I do remember when leggings and tapered jeans and acid washed denim were in style the first time, which I know means that I should not be wearing any of that the second time around. But here I am making my love public. It is this pair, OK? I wear them. In public. And tonight, I bought them in black and in indigo. (And then I bought toothpaste and eyeshadow and two halter tops, $3 each, one for yoga and one for non-yoga.) I was so excited and I was at the store alone and I don’t call people, so when I got to the checkout, I gushed to the cashier, “I’m so glad you guys have these pants again! I was hoping they’d be back.” “Pants?” she asked, bemused, looking through my pile on the conveyor belt. “Oh, you mean the jeggings.” “Yes. Those,” I sighed. The jeggings. I own jeggings.

But you guys, I found my beloved pants again! That’s what matters. Let’s focus on that.

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