|"BUT I AM A MOM"|
I like Mom jeans. There, I’ve said it. I like them. They fit me and they don’t make me feel like I am trying to emulate a 15-year-old.
If my daughter, who is 20 something hears my declaration she will probably disown me. When, I ask you, did jeans that fail to show your butt crack become a badge of old fogey-ism?
Admittedly, I did wear hip-huggers when I was in my teens. Of course my body was nubile and perfect and I weighed about 100 lbs. We are talking a pre-baby body here, after which no amount of Ab-workouts would, well, work out.
Don’t get me wrong, I am in an ok weight range for my height and I am not obese. Still those super low-rise jeans just give me the willies. I mean the zipper can’t be more than a couple of inches, and then there is that amount of me with just no place to go. And I just hate flab spill.
So give me my Mom jeans with their 6-inch zippers and buttons that actually meet at the waist. No one will suspect when I put on my sweater or shirt that they rise up a little bit higher than my 20-year-old daughters. I can keep my mom jeans in the closet (no pun intended) and no one will be the wiser. And if my daughter does happen to find out my dirty little secret, I will just have to utter those five little, but truthful words…”But I am a MOM.”