I'd
take the rack or thumbscrews over skinny jeans any day. By skinny jeans
I mean that denim instrument of self-flagellation some of us keep
around and try on from time to time in the vain hope we'll be able to
fit into that unmaintainable size, a size we were once however many
years ago. In this bit, the author gets a new twist on the skinny jean mind-f*ck,
when she squeezes her one-year-old into a pair of pants that were just
not designed to accommodate the squishy goodness of a toddler. Aside
from the whole issue of mini-adult clothes passing for kid outfits today,
the skinny jeans became a reminder of the total nuttiness our girls get
about weight and body image and all that. Long live the comfy pants.
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