My Levi's now look like they skip meals and dryheave over toilet rims. Why? Because I've been cornered. Ambushed by the media, GQ and, the female. Conventinal wisdom has confiscated my comfort. Aeropastale sweats with the torn ankles from my senoir year in high school will no longer cut it in public. And so, jeans and slacks it is. But the change has taken some getting use to. During those 'laundry weeks' (ofcourse, the Skinnies are dry clean only), I find myself relapsing into a nice worn-out dingy pair of Levi Strauss' from '06 and I feel like I may never recover. Fleece pants, a beater and 4 year old Ugg slippers that I pissed in, twice, when Blacked out never felt better. Though, with a scornful eye, loom my dark wash skinnies from the closet at all times. Homewrecking what was a beautiful marriage betwen me and my awkwardly wide legged jeans, my dark wash skinny mistress is now in full control.
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