I went for two years not wearing jeans. Two lots of winters. Not to mention the in-between seasons where a 'dressy top and jeans' is pretty much the standard uniform for a night out.
Why, you might ask? Because I had outgrown mine. If I laid down flat on my bed and sucked in like I was removing all of the oxygen out of my body I could do them up, just.
But when I stood up I had more than a muffin top, it was more like a parachute top. Not to mention the difficulty in breathing or sitting problem.
So, I created my very own private jeans protest. I wasn't allowed to wear jeans until I could comfortably wear my own.
This year, after a month of winter I had finally had enough. I just wanted to wear some jeans. So, I went to a shop and found some stretchy, high-waisted jeans in the next size up and bought two pairs in different colours. I felt amazing. All that angst, all that self-punishment because I didn't want to buy the next size up.
Really ridiculous when the only person who sees the size tag is me. Also, we are all so much more than a size tag.
Now I tell anyone who listens: "Just buy the bigger jeans."