All women think there is one pair of jeans in the world that is the perfect pair. The pair that will make you look slim, cool, stylish and will transform every ratty top into a smashing fabulous accessory. This is why there could be a series called Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, about magic jeans.
I am an atheist. I do not believe in God. But I foolishly believe in the magic jeans. I thought I found them just over a week ago at T.J.Maxx. Not only magic, but discounted. I bought them. They look like this:
I wore them. I thought they looked great.
Then I got a toothache and at the same time was expecting company from out of town, so tried to push toothache pain into recess of my brain. I was stoic. Company arrived on Friday. Toothache was there, but bearable. Saturday I went out with company and husband to fine dining establishment I have wanted to go to for a very long time. Tooth hurt and pain was getting to be a nuisance. (Where do the jeans come in? you might wonder. Be patient.)
At beginning of meal, I ordered wine. I was afraid of fancy cocktails because I wanted booze I knew would act quickly to lower pain and elevate cheerfulness. Husband and company ordered cocktail called Infinite Fall. It was pretty. I tasted it, and knew it was the drink of my dreams. I ordered one.
The meal was the best I ever had and Infinite Fall was the best drink I ever had. I ate soft starchy yummy food. I was cheerful. I thought I was fine for the night. But, toothache came back with mighty roar. I scrounged around for old pills and tra la! Found codeine + acetaminophen. Took two. And a sleeping pill. Slept.
Sunday I had a very important event. Company, husband and I were going to see the 8 minute art movie of me, along with 11 other 8 minute movies of other artists at the impressive R.I.S.D. Museum. Before breakfast decided I’d better take two more codeine + acetaminophen to head off imminent pain. Wanted to look fab. Was going to wear magic jeans and random top and look cool & artsy. SBut something was wrong. Fast forward through being unable to keep head off floor, unable to eat breakfast or even crawl properly. Made valiant effort to climb upstairs, dampen unruly hair in shower. Put on magic jeans. Husband & company left me in semi coma on bed, wearing jeans and sweatshirt, to go to Museum. There was sleep. There was unpleasant sick. There was sleep.
Felt kind of normal Sunday, except for pain. Got proper medication from best ever dentist.
Company went home Monday. I went to work. Still had pain. Week proceeded in blur of pain and work and sleep. Finally, by Wednesday, there was light at end of pain tunnel.
By Friday I was ready to look chic again. Had art event. Looked for magic jeans. Could not find them anywhere. Looked the next day. Could not find them. Had I given them to Savers when I was in coma? Thrown them in trash? I looked again and again in closet. Found all other inferior non magic jeans. Was bereft and sad. Would have to wear non magic jeans.
The next day, I carefully, slowly, methodically looked at all hanging jeans, and lo & behold, saw the magic jeans. I put them on. I realized they are a little too big in areas, a little too stretchy. Not magic.
But my toothache is gone.