*Lill returns home from jean shopping*
Jill: Hey, how did it go?
Lill: *Grumble mumble*
Jill: That good eh?
Lill: The shopgirl tried to get me into skinny’s – when I inquired after a more relaxed fit, she began gagging…
Jill: *Raises eyebrows*
Lill: She gave me ‘regular skinny’, ‘super skinny’ and something called ‘second skin’ to choose from.
Jill: At least you had some options…
Lill: Yes, well when the options you enjoy facing include pastry, pudding and pie, you typically prefer NOT having your clothing painted on.
Jill: *Sigh* Well you’re empty handed so I guess it didn’t work out.
Lill: No, no it didn’t – when I finally managed to pull the so-called ‘regular skinny’s’ over my ass and zip them up, I was confronted with a simultaneous explosion of front bum, muffin top, camel toe and cankles.
Jill: *Cough* Erm…
Lill: It then took me another ten minutes to get said jeans down and off as my feet had swelled from compromised circulation.
Jill: *Snigger* I guess it’s a good thing you wore sandals.
Lill: *Sigh* By the time I left the fitting room I needed a shower, a bottle of Gatorade and a bowl of Prozac.
Jill: I’m sorry you didn’t find something Lillian…but at least in enduring this you’ve uncovered the requisite diet to ACTUALLY fitting into skinny jeans…