Blue Over the Jeans

Well, gals, good to see you're both well and sassy. Used to be a
saying "fat and sassy", but I know better than to call a sister
"fat." We already can do that to ourselves even if we weigh only 108
pounds. Nope. No one needs to do that for us.

Kinda blue today. Went to put on my jeans. Tried, and well, enough
said.

Got me to thinking about jeans. Remember when we were young? Why I
remember when I got my first pair of blue denim jeans. I was a
teenager. You remember what it was like back then? For school, we
girls all had to wear dresses. So, we all had closets full of
dresses and saddle oxford shoes. We hardly had any pants since there
really wasn't anywhere a proper young lady could wear them. And the
summer was just for shorts and flops.

Not only that, but only the hard working poorer kids wore jeans. In
the rural south, jeans were worn when working on the farm. Jeans
were worn by boys working on the farm. Jeans were not of our
"class." I even had a friend from the famous Tobacco Road area who
once told me that even his family wasn't poor enough to wear jeans
and Tobacco Road was poor.

I also had to fight long and hard just to get a pair of denim
material bell bottoms. Up to that time, we girls had those
dreadfully ugly knit pull up pants with the stirrups in the bottom of
them. Oh, how I hated them. I wanted bell bottoms. I wanted my
pants to swish together as I walked. Well, mama finally bought some
red, white and blue striped denim material and made me a pair of bell
bottoms. They were hardly flared as she cut the bells down, but
bells they were. I was so excited and just so proud. Of course,
schools were still out for that nonsense.

Seems like the establishment didn't like how the youth rebelled
against them to wear jeans. Seems like the old folks didn't like the
kids in their embroidered, painted or psychedelic jeans. All those
hippies with their long hair, wide bell bottoms, flowers in their
hair, and just plain out "letting it all hang out" lifestyle. Wanted
to be a hippie. Couldn't. Not with my parents. Guess I was
satisfied to have those red, white and blue pseudo bell bottoms.

I finally got my first pair of authentic blue jeans when I was a
teenager. I was so proud. I just loved having them a tad bit too
long so I could rough up the bottom of them. I loved looking like
the others. I loved the flowers on them. I loved the purple fringe
purse I had to go with them. My parents hated them. Couldn't wear
them to school as they still weren't allowed. Couldn't wear them out
to dinner. Could only wear them to a friend's house or around our own.

You know, I didn't have more than one pair of blue jeans until I went
to college. The first pair of jeans I bought with my new found
freedom were great. They even stood up by themselves. Made them all
that more convenient when I was too tired to stand up by myself. Oh,
we'd wash our jeans and then have to get in them while they were
wet. Wanted to be sure they fit just right, donchaknow.

Guess what. I only have two pairs of blue jeans now. Perhaps, all
this typing has shrunk me down enough so maybe, just maybe, I can
strain while I pull them up, flop on the bed, suck in the old tummy,
and zip those babies shut. Of course, I may be light headed for the
rest of the day. Where's the maid to help with the corset just so I
can have an 16 inch waist? If only someone would lace me tight-- I
wouldn't have to flop around looking like a dying fish trying to zip
up those jeans. But then, lightheadedness would be guaranteed.

Enjoy collecting those rocks, Miss Vul. I'm off to collect some more
memories on this nice day.

Miss Etta