“Just say no.” I had heard it so many times in reference to drugs, but never to mom jeans. I was having the similar symptoms to a first great high…no, I don’t know what that’s like, what are you talking about? I put them on for my first day of spring quarter, excited like a Kindergartner on their first day of school. The best part, no one would ever know. I pulled my shirt down over the expansive inseam.
I made it through class without a hitch, the tummy-slimming panel performing well. When I got home I decided to snap a selfie and send the pic to my best friend from high school. I thought at least one other soul should enjoy my secret. She guffawed as best she could via text message. But then, I felt the first ounce of shame in my little secret. What was I doing wearing mom jeans at 23?!
I had a small epiphany right then and there. I needed to do better by myself and my body. So here I am, starting to blog about my journey to be more fit. And then, I had a crazy idea. I’d train to run the Rock ‘N Roll Half Marathon in November. Frankly, I’m not sure if this will happen. But you’ll here about the journey nonetheless. So maybe mom jeans don’t look good on anyone, but it seems they contain some sort of inspirational magic. Sisterhood of the Traveling Mom Jeans, or whatever…
RUNS WITH MARKERS 