Good Jeans

**Life changes alert**: Ian is interviewing for new jobs, and it appears that he is highly employable.  So we've been driving to and from interviews for the past ten days or so, both in-state and out-of-state.  The logistics of the interviews and the emotions of the impending job change have kept us quite busy recently, which is why I haven't erased my chalkboard shopping list in over a week.

I've accidentally eavesdropped on some of Ian's phone interviews and listened happily as his industry knowledge melts away his insecurities, even during pointed questions.  I love how he looks after it's over, his face covered in a smile and his body relaxed in a big sigh as he tells me "Well, I think that went well!"

But as much as I love the way he looks after he's done with his phone interviews, I get a little butterfly in my stomach every time he gets dressed for his in-person interviews because he's wearing the sexiest ensemble in his wardrobe, second only to the birthday suit: the business suit.  Swoon.  Plus, we're going to a wedding at the end of the week.  Combined with the job interviews, I'm getting a year's worth of suit-wearing in one-month! Lucky me.

I'm not sure that women have a business-suit equivalent.  I don't think there's a particular item in my closet that I could wear (in public) that would immediately attract a different kind of positive male gaze.  Indeed, men always seem interested in the mere shape of our bodies, not necessarily what's covering them.  So it could be a curve-hugging dress or a plain shirt with the perfect pair of jeans.

I've always had trouble finding a great pair of jeans.  Sometimes the color is too light (mama likes her dark wash), the fabric is too stiff (I'm looking at you, Gap), or the low-rise is a little too low.  In the last instance, I usually don't realize the low-rise tragedy until I'm on the floor grooming Teddy and Ian walks behind me and says, "Hey, Annie, crack kills."

Crack is whack, y'all.  But I don't have to worry about it anymore because I think I may have found the holy grail of women's blue jeans:  Levi's Perfectly Slimming Jeans (Check out those Zappos reviews - clearly I'm not the only fan.)  I'm in love.

No, I'm not sticking it out.  Baby got back... and a little bit of front, too.

Apologies for the Eva-Longoria style over-the-shoulder pose.  Standing in the corner with my back to the camera was just a little too Blair Witch Project for my tastes.  I digress...

These blue jeans come in a variety of shades; they have a higher-waist that closes up shop in the back while locking up everything in the front; and the soft stretchy fabric gives a boost to posteriorly-gifted individuals like myself.  And if you didn't read this post about my new-found cheapness is clothes-buying, have no fear: I got these jeans on sale at Kohl's for $40.  Score.

So while Ian interviews in his business suits, I'll be hanging out in the background in my uber-comfy, uber-sexy new jeans. And if we end up moving again, these jeans will be the first thing I toss into my suitcase. 

Engagement Ring Thing, Part 1

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

1 Corinthians 13:4

I twisted my engagement ring back onto my finger last week for Valentine’s Day.  Ian surprised me with a cooking class for the two of us for the holiday (what a guy!), so I decided to don some of my special jewelry for the evening, including the earrings I wore on our wedding day and my diamond solitaire engagement ring (don’t worry, we didn’t get our hands too messy during the class).  It’s still sitting pretty on my the finger typing the letters s, w, q and x in this post.  

I hadn’t worn it for many months before last week.  I took off my engagement ring last summer because it’s a bit tight, even more so when my already-stubby fingers puff up in the summer heat.  After wearing it for nearly two years straight (a year before the wedding, and a year after), I was surprised that I didn’t miss it very much.  I enjoyed the simplicity of just wearing my wedding band.  So I kept my engagement ring in my jewelry chest, wearing it only sporadically.

But after a few comments about its absence last year, I started wondering: should I always wear my engagement ring with my wedding band?

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my engagement ring.  Ian and I picked out the diamond together at Leber Jeweler in Chicago.  It’s a sustainably mined 3/4 carat diamond from Canada.  (Adorable fact about Canadian mined diamonds: in a effort to build a national brand, Canadian diamonds are etched with a microscopic image of either a bear or a maple leaf.)  I remember sitting in the jeweler’s office watching him pull various diamonds out of their red maple leaf-emblazoned paper squares, spreading them delicately across a soft velvety piece of black fabric.  It all felt very James Bond. But the gems didn’t even matter that much to me because all of the sparklers laying in front of us represented something much more precious: that we were acting on the commitment we both felt in our hearts.  

I proudly wore my engagement ring for the year of wedding planning, and quietly slipped it onto my right hand on our big day.


 

And with these words: “this ring which we have chosen together, I give in token of the covenant made this day between us.”  - we crowned our wedding bands as two of our most important possessions, knocking engagement ring off its meaningfulness throne  Because it plays second fiddle now, I don’t mind not wearing it.  Simply put: I’m not engaged anymore.

So I take pleasure in the simplicity of my wedding band. It doesn’t draw attention, no one asks to see it, and no one judges its size.  Therein lies another, perhaps more important reason I sometimes choose to keep my engagement ring in my jewelry chest: because it makes me feel a little bit self-conscious, which I’ll explore in Part 2.

Famous Fashions

Growing up I loved the TV show Full House.  I tuned in to TGIF on ABC religiously every week, just waiting to hear those magical intro lyrics, "Everywhere you look, everywhere is a heart (a heart), a hand to hold on to..." My mom taped every episode for me so I could re-live the Tanner Family's G-rated dramatics throughout the week.  I even had the Michelle doll that wore '90s-fabulous black denim jeans and a pink fringe shirt and repeated her famous lines when you squeezed her stomach: "You got it, dude" and "No way, Jose!"


So imagine my sheer childish exuberance when, during one Friday-night viewing session, I saw Miss Fabulous Michelle Tanner pushing her doll in the same pink baby buggy I had in my play room!  We like the same things, so we could be friends in real life!  I thought.  So went the reasoning of my 5-year old self.


You might think I've outgrown this cheap sense of popular self-validation by now.  That I'd react with less enthusiasm to seeing something I own being used by someone on TV.

Nope.  I've transitioned from toys to clothing - and it's only happened a few times - but whenever I've seen a piece of my clothing worn by someone on TV, I react like a stage mom seeing her fabric-daughter on the small screen for the first time.


My enthusiasm is a second cousin of the bigger sociological phenomenon of "Celebrity,"  which helps us understand why we're so fascinated with the Kardashian divorce drama and why no one can find a non-Kindle version of the Steve Jobs biography.  The evolutionary perspective on celebrity is an interesting one, as explained in this BBC article from 2003:

Evolutionary biologists say it is natural for humans to look up to individuals who receive attention because they have succeeded in a society. In prehistoric times, this would have meant respecting good hunters and elders. But as hunting is not now an essential skill and longevity is more widely achievable, these qualities are no longer revered.  Instead, we look to celebrities, whose fame and fortune we want to emulate.

So color me tickled when someone famous is emulating my fashion preferences.  Somewhere in the deep evolutionary parts of my brain, my fierce cavewoman self is patting herself on her oh-so-stylish back.


Most recently (and least impressively), I saw a favorite dress of mine in a - prepare yourself -  Christmastime Nissan commercial.  Even before I could question the influx of holiday car commercials by shouting to Ian, "Who buys someone a car for Christmas?!" I spied this happy girl in my Jessica Simpson-brand houndstooth dress.

See it?  There's my black-and-white dress paired with a trim candy apple cardigan and a cute side pony.  Why thank you, Nissan and your commercial wardrobe consultants, for the fashion tip!

But the Most Wonderful Sale of the Year Dress is such a D-List wardrobe celebrity.  Permit me to stretch my bragging muscles a little bit to present the Brangelina of my closet: my finger-less gloves.  

My mother-in-law brought me back a candy-striped woolen scarf and matching pair gloves, both made in Scotland, from her trip to England in 2009.  Soft, warm, and a quick way to brighten up my black winter coat, I loved my souvenir gift

But someone famous made me love them even more.  Now my fluffy sweaters, sequined tops, and 4-inch heels look wide-eyed in amazement at my fingerless gloves because a movie-stah wore them in a blockbuster last July:

Hermione & Harry in HP & the Deathly Hallows, Pt. 1

Scene after winter scene in Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows, Part 1, Emma Watson as Hermione Granger was wearing my made-in-the-UK fingerless gloves.  And I couldn't help but think, We like the same things, so we could be friends in real life!