I Need Some Jeans Men

I’ve decided that I need as many men as I have jeans. I need a man pair of jeans for each mood. I need a man pair of jeans for each season. I need a man pair of jeans for each look.

Shoot, I’ll just say it how it is…I wear a man pair of jeans as an accessory.

Could you imagine how wonderful life would be? I have five pairs of jeans that each help me and each make me feel better than a fat kid in a candy store.

Speaking of fat kids, I need a Fat Jeans Man. A man that feels good to put on when I’m bloated bigger than roadkill. A man that makes me feel comfortable and beautiful even though I feel gross. A man that wants to get jiggy with it even though I’m a psychotic raging bitch. Yes, a Fat Jeans Man would be really great to have…but only one week a month. Any more than that and then I’m going to blame him for my fatness. In fact I’d probably blame him more than I’d blame my post pregnancy body.

The post pregnancy body that has me wearing Mommy Jeans. No, not high waisted, camel toeing, butt wedgying Mom Jeans. No, my friends, these are Mommy Jeans and with them I could wear a Mommy Jeans Man. Someone that I can deal with daily. Someone that made me feel cute, yet functional. Someone that doesn’t mind having spit up, snot, dirt, ketchup, or even poop or pee wiped on him. This man would take the screaming baby, the whining toddler, the attitude ridden preschooler and say “Honey, you need a break. Why don’t you go out with your friends tonight and have some fun.”

And then…my friends…I’d find me a Party Jeans Man. We’re talking low rise, in the club, worn with high hot heels, a cute sexy top, and a body that kills. Yes, he’d buy me drinks. He’d know how to dance. He’d even make my ass look good (because when you’ve got some badunkadunk you need jeans to tame that booty down!). He’ll know which places were good to go to have fun. He’d know how to have fun. Most importantly, all of my friends would love him and I’d feel sexier than a Pussy Cat Doll during a concert tour. Yes…I’d look and feel fantastic. Until the next morning, when I wake up exhausted with a headache and few recollections of what happened the night before.

No, now it’s time for me to get on my Working Jeans. It’s time to do home improvement projects, clean, paint, whatever it is that you do when parts of your home needs fixing. Then walks in my Working Jeans Man. He’s wearing nothing but his own working jeans, a six pack of abs, and a tool belt that has everything I need. Yes, my Working Jeans Man would help me get stuff done around the house, I could stand back at a distance and admire his muscles as he carries those two by fours up the stairs so he can build on to my deck in the glistening sun. Yes…I’d drool and get paint all over him my jeans.  Then after all of that hard physical labor, all of that cardio work, all of that hammering and pounding (*wink wink*) I’d get to wear my skinny jeans.

Skinny Jeans. Jeans I was afraid to wear until recently. Jeans that suddenly when I bought a pair actually made me feel fashionable (even though my sister said it reminded her of Junior High School when I was the least fashionable. Shoot, I was just ahead of my time!). With that would come my Skinny Jeans Man and I would feel like one of the Real Housewives of Orange County because he would be like “My Gay”. He’d dress me, fashion me out, and make me look like a million dollars all the while making it look like I wasn’t trying at all. Yes, I’d be the Kourtney Kardashian Type Mom of Chicago and I’d look fabulous all the time.

Yes, it’s decided. I need as many men as I have jeans. Yet for now I’ll have to make do with training the man I already have and love. He’s my All Purpose Jeans and I’ll wear him them through the shreds, the dirt, and snot and slobber. They’re comfortable, they always fit, and I suppose I’ll wear him them for the rest of my life.

Even if he doesn’t wear a tool belt.

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This post was written for Write On Edge.

We all have a relationship with jeans. They can make us feel a range of emotions, and this week we asked you to write a piece in which jeans figured prominently.

Cheryl got a little steamy with her continuing story about the widow in I’m still alive.

How did you do? Link up, but ONLY if you’ve done the prompt.

Try to read as many as you can so we can keep our community strong and growing.