Tight Jeans
Being with you felt like wearing a pair of jeans I used to have.
They looked good on me, Hugged the right places, but my gosh, not comfortable.
I never really could figure out why They just never quite fit right. They were the right size, I think, at least, Not way too big or way too small. But something about them, Maybe some subtle detail of the front zipper, Or, the way they were cut, maybe it was something the dryer did to them, over the years, Whatever it was, They just weren’t Quite Right At least, not for me.
But Everyone complimented them, And the truth is, I hate shopping for new jeans. Also, I’m not always above vanity, And I kind of liked the way they looked.
They were jeans that the version of myself That was cool, low-key Chill, Not trying too hard But also put together, Would wear. In my life where, I am someone who Always has a clean kitchen And never forgets To turn off her straightener But is also up for A spontaneous road trip And never says no to pizza, Maybe these jeans would have been comfortable.
For years, I kept wearing those jeans anyway, even after I was solidly aware, Of how uncomfortable I was in them.
Here, in real life, My actual self spent the entirety Of anytime I wore That pair of jeans Thinking About the moment I could go home, break free of this leg jail And change back into my treasured comfy sweatpants.
I don’t have those jeans anymore. They got stolen when I was traveling in Chile, And really, What a glorious feeling It is To be both comfortable And free again.