Mom jeans? This must be a joke
Mom jeans are deliberately unflattering, the younger generation must be making fun of us. So we gave them body suits.
Do you remember the epic Saturday Night Live mom jeans sketch? I do. As a mom struggling to hang onto the shredded fibers of my youth, I thought it was hilarious.
Back when my son was 8, I was still stripping part-time. And at 35, in dancer years I was like 80. I don’t think I could’ve done that without the ability to laugh at myself. I mean, if you can’t laugh about showing your genitals to make a living, what the hell can you laugh about?
Even with my good sense of humor, my age is still a prickly topic for me.
So recently, as I was walking through the Juniors section at a local department store, which, as a 5-foot tall woman, is where I usually buy my pants, I was caught by surprise at the display of jeans labeled “Mom Jeans.”
And as I stared at this “new” trend, I couldn’t help but feel old.
I felt compelled to look around for the hidden camera. Did they revive the show Punk’d? Surely there are some store employees watching somewhere giggling. Are young people actually trying to make their butts look 3 feet long?
This just can’t be.
I looked around a little more and saw the ghost of the 90s bell bottoms.
What’s next? The Rachel haircut?
I felt mocked. These silly young whipper-snappers are obviously making fun of me.
Wallowing in my own insecurity, I powerwalked past the display and onto the shirts and tops, where I found my vindication.
Lurking in between the half tops and graphic tees, I saw the bodysuits. You know, the ones with the snaps at the crotch. Intended to be worn with jeans or flowing pants, the purpose of these leotard wannabes is to present the ultimate tight-fitting tucked-in look.
I sported these goofy things all through high school, usually with a choker or hippy skirt, probably irritating the hippies I thought I was memorializing.
But as I remembered my oh-so-cool fashion choices in the late 90s, a tiny smirk began to appear on my not so elderly face.
I remembered the agonizing days sitting in class, desperately hoping to find some way to sit in order to find some level of comfort in my seat. I’d wiggle around, until finally, I would move just right and those snaps would catch a piece of delicate skin. Hot tears would fill my eyes, all the while wearing a poker face with the rest of the girls who were also hiding their discomfort in the name of fashion.
And then, a saying from my high school history class scrolled through my brain.
“Those who don’t remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
My resentment turned to pity. And then my pity turned to schadenfreude.
I will not be buying mom jeans anytime soon. I will however revel in Gen X’s revenge on the younger generation.
Good luck with those snaps ladies.