An Inner Monologue Of Buying High-Waisted Jean Shorts

I thought this was what I wanted.

Who cares if you know you shouldn’t, whispered the imp on my shoulder. You can pull this off.

The cherub tried to intercede. This is wrong, she pleaded. You’re better than this.

Even my own reflection in the mirror seemed to say, “Don’t.” But time was running out. I had to act soon. With the risks considered, I succumbed to the devilish temptation and accepted my fate.

I quietly put my clothes back on, exited the small, claustrophobia-inducing room, and proceeded to finish the deed.

“Yes, you can e-mail the receipt, thank you,” I heard myself say, as the crop top-clad Urban Outfitters cashier folded and bagged my purchase. With the push of a button accepting that my debit card would be charged the agreed upon $22.12, I became the nervous owner of a pair of cut-off high-waisted shorts, courtesy of the non-refundable clearance section.

Those damn shorts. Taking up valuable real estate in an already cramped drawer, tags still attached. The discounted price made the risk seem reasonable. “I’ll find something to wear them with,” I assured myself. “How can you pass up something on clearance?” My first stab at pulling off this denim nightmare of a trend was with a loose fitting cotton half shirt. Nope. Too baggy. Maybe a tucked in tank? Oh, God no. Let’s try a bikini top. These can be pool- or beach-exclusive shorts. HA.

First, there’s the mom butt. Remember that SNL skit with Maya, Amy, and Tina traipsing around in mom jeans? THAT BUTT, in the most dramatic fashion possible. Suddenly my butt is flat and long, in turn giving a barely-there illusion to my already modestly-sized chest. And why is my crotch so long? With their never-ending zipper, these babies pack on a good 3 to 4 more inches of pure pelvic area. Just the region every woman strives to emphasize.

My fatal flaw in falling prey to this fashion gaffe was forgetting that one literally has to have the body of a supermodel to wear them attractively. And NOBODY HAS THE BODY OF A SUPERMODEL. So nobody should be wearing these. Perhaps I’ve done the world a small favor by reducing the quantity of these shorts available to the general public by one.

But they’re still sitting there, occupying my bottom drawer in all their fringy dreadfulness, haunting me. I swear one time I woke up to them laid out by my closet, begging to be worn, when I knew they had been folded and put away before I went to be. Will I throw them away? How wasteful! The tags are still on them for goodness sake. Will I donate them? Maybe, but only after they’ve sat there for at least a few years. Will I still diligently attempt to crack their code, trying them on with every top I own from time to time, convinced that they really weren’t as bad as I remember and I can totally pull them off with this new tank and maybe a belt (oh a belt!)? Absolutely.